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Action, Humor, and Situations 

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SERGEL'S 

Acting Dialogues 




*CH ICAQO-6 

TOE-DRAMATIC -PUBLISHING -COMPANY. 



PRACTICAL INSTRUCTIONS 

FOR 

PRIVATE THEATRICALS 

By W. D. EMERSON. 

Author of "A',Country Romance," "The Unknown Rival." "Hues- 
hie Pie/*' etc. 

Price, 25 cents. 

Here ia a practical hand-book, describing in detail all the ac* 

iessories, properties, scenes and apparatus necessary for an ama- 
teur production. In addition to the descriptions in words, every- 
thing is clearly shown in the numerous pictures, more than one- 
hundred being inserted in the book. Kb such useful book has) 
ever been offered to the amateur players of any country. 

CONTENTS. 

Chapter I. Introductory Remarks. 

Chapter II. Stage, How to Make, etc. ±n drawing-rooms 
ar parlors, with sliding or hinged doors. In a single large room. 
The Curtain; how to attach it, and raise it, etc. 

Chapter III. Arrangement of Scenery. How to hang its 
Drapery, tormentors, wings, borders, drops. 

Chapter IV. Box Scenes. Center door pieces, plain wings, 
door wings, return pieces, etc. 

Chapter V. How to Light the Stage. Oil, gas and electric 
lights. Footlights, Sidelights, Eeflectors. How to darken the 
Dtage, etc. 

Chapter VI. Stage Effects. "Wind, Kain, Thunder, Break- 
mg Glass, Falling Buildings, Snow, Water, "Waves, Cascades, 
Passing Trains, Lightning, Chimes, Sound of Horses' Hoofs, ShotfL 

Chapter VII. Scene Painting. 

Chapter VIII. A Word to the Property Man. 

Chapter IX. To the Stage Manager. 

Chapter X. The Business Manager. 



Address Orders to 

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY* 

CHICAGO. 



SERGEL'S 

Acting Dialogues 



SELECTIONS FOR AMATEUR AND 

PARLOR THEATRICALS AND 

SCHOOL EXHIBITIONS 



Copyright, 1904, by The Dramatic Publishing Company. 



CHICAGO 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY. 



m* i^ 'f%m 



Two Copies Received 

DEC 30 1904 
Gopyngni tritry 

CLASS Ct XXc. I 

/ay-fit' 

COPY B. 






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/* - 3 



CONTENTS 



SERGEL'S ACTING DIALOGUES 



Pkeface 5 

Beautiful Forever Fred. Hay. 7 

(Two Male aud Two Female Characters.) 

A Cup of Tea Nuttier and Dorley. 16 

(Three Male and One Female Characters.) 

Our Domestics Fred. Hay. 32 

(Six Male and Six Female Characters.) 
An Inquisitive Neighbor Wm. Hancock. 57 

(Two Male Characters.) 

A Noble Vagabond Victor Hugo. 61 

(Two Male Characters.) 

A Bashful Lover J. Sterling Coyne. 05 

(Two Male Characters.) 

A Persistent Intruder John M. Morton. 69 

(Two Male Characters.) 

The Minister of Police , Tom Taylor. 73 

(Two Male Characters.) 

A Silent Woman TJtomas H. Lacy. 77 

(Two Male Characters.) 

Doctor Faustus M. Carre. 80 

(Two Male Characters.) 

Anything for a Change Shirley Brooks. 83 

(Two Male Characters.) 

David Garrick T. W. Robertson. 86 

(Two Male Characters.) 

% 



CONTENTS. 

A Husband in Perplexity T. W. Robertson. 92 

(Two Male Characters.) 

The Buccaneer Lord Lytton. 9G 

(Two Male Characters ) 

Two Gay Detectives T. W. Robertson. 93 

(Three Male Characters ) 

Drawing the Long Bow Samuel Footc. 108 

(Three Male Characters.) 

Extremes Meet - T. W. Robertson. 108 

(Three Male Characters.) 

Like Master Like Man . , Charles Selby. 112 

(Three Male Characters.) 

In the Tiger's Den Anonymous. 117 

(Three Male Characters.) 

Nob and Snob T. W. Robertson. 123 

(Four Male Characters.) 

Cash against Brains T. J. Williams. 128 

(Three Male Characters.) 

A Roland for an Oliver John Poole. 132 

(Four Male Characters.) 

A Slight Mistake John M. Morton. 1ST 

(Two Male Characters ) 



BEAUTIFUL FOR EVER. 



SCENE. — Room in 3d grooves. 
Discover Tommy, R.,'and Jelly, l., reading newspaper. 

Tom {reading). " It improves the complexion, and preserves it — one 
trial ain't sufficient." 

J el. Read that again, Tommy, what do it say 7 

Tom {reading). " Beautiful for never, and hever ! Madame Rebecca 
Paynter's anti-ki-knock-a-long." (spells.) 

Jel. Never mind the name, what do it do 7 

Tom (reading). " It removes furniture carefully." Oh, stop, I've shunt- 
ed on to the wrong line, that's about furniture wagons, (reading) "It re- 
moves freckles, blotches, interruptions, and tan spots." 

Jel. (eagerly). Do it say tan spots 7 

Tom. Of course it do. 

Jel. Is tan spots dangerous 7 

Tom. Unpleasant, Jelly, to say the least— I was a wictim to 'em at 
school. 

Jel. On the hands 7 

Tom. Principally on the hands, Jelly ; they waried the entertainment 
with me sometimes. 

Jel. What more do it say 7 

Tom. The anti (spelling ) 

Jel. Never mind the name. 

Tom. Well, it modifies the reticule, and departs a healthy Blooms-bury- 

Square, of a daughter " Hold hard, I've shunted again — ' departs a 

healthy bloom. ' (reading) " It opens the four hundred million doors of 
the human skin, and never shuts 'em again; it nervates the daily waste 
and promotes the larges - circulation in the world " — stop, in fact, "it makes 
heverybody and heverythink beautiful forever. ' 

Jel. Some rubbish, Tommy, as no decent girl would ever think of 
using, you may depend, (aside) If I don't have a gallon or two of the 
Anti-what-you-may-call-it as soon as I get my wages, my name ain't Jelly, 
and these tan spots on my templers coming out worse than ever. 

Tom. Holloa ! Luxurant black hair. The crino 

Jel. Never mind that line. 

Tom. But I do mind that line, (reading) " For dying the hair a stable 
hue.' (suddenly folding paper) Never mind reading that, Jelly, (aside) I 
wonder what effect it would have on this auburn. 

Enter Mas. Simpleton, l. d. 

Mrs. S. Chatter, chatter again ; what are you doing here 7 (Tom and 
Jelly endeavor to pass paper from one to the other,) 



8 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Jel Please, mum, I was trying to make the place look "beautiful for* 
ever. Oh ! {correcting herself.) 

Mrs. S. What excuse have you for being here, sir ? 

Tom. Been bad, mum; had a dying sensation come over me just nowj 
it's passed now, mum. (gives Jelly newspaper behind his back.) 

Mrs S Go and see where your master is. 

Tom. He's in the stable hue, I think. 

Mrs. S. Jelly, I'll ring when I want you. 

[Jelly and Tom going, hiding paper, exeunt c. 
Oh, dear, where will this end * What a little goose 1 was to be induced 
by the artful advertisement of that Madame Paynter to invest in a com- 
pound I never wanted nor never used, that comes* of listening to Maria, 
whose vanity is only equalled by my stupidity. Ten pounds for the rub- 
bish — Dew from Mount Hibla — the only thing dew about it is the bill. 
Vheiever am 1 to get the money after all Edward's kindness, and the ex- 
pense of our marriage trip — I dare not ask him — besides I would not have 
him know, (loud knock) What's that 1 

Enter Jelly, from c. door, and giving letter. 

Jel. I was to say it was from the same party as yesterday. 

Mrs. S. {aside). That horrible woman again. 

Jel. Lord, mum, how beautiful you do look after your trip. 

Mrs. S. Yes, Jelly, (eagerly) Was there any message 1 

Jel. No. 

Mrs. S. (aside). Thank goodness. 

Jel. Except as she'd call again in an hour. 

Mrs. S. Lost ! 

Jel. (going). Well, them bits of paper takes the color out of her cheeks 
—I wonder what she've been up to ? [Exit. c. 

Mrs. C. (opening letter). Call in an hour — whatever shall I do] (reads) 
"P S — " I shall faint, what's this? (reads) "This account will be sent 
in to Mr. S., if not settled at once." Oh, Edward, however shall I again 
be able to look on your frank face ; you, so generous, so real, with such 
an abhorrence of this artificial age. I could have borrowed this money, 
only Martha's at Margate, and Sarah at Scarborough. 

( Voice of Simpleton heard calling outside). Selina ! 

Mrs. S. Edward's voic*», 1 must think of a scheme for getting this 
money from him ; he shall know everything — everything but the truth. 

[Exit, c. 

Enter Mr. Simpleton, l., carries a bunch of primroses. 

Mr. S. Selina ! (looking round) Gone ! When I was about to present to 
her these emblems of simplicity, so like her darling self— artless ! ah, 
and confiding, nothing of the girl of the period about Selina. What 
would she say if she knew I had been idiot enough to purchase rubbish to 
dye my hair. Five pounds for the Balm of Sahara, and five pounds for 
the baths to wash off the stuff*, which I only succeeded in doing just be- 
fore my marriage — ten pounds gone — the very time I want it to pay the 
expenses of my wedding tour, and now to be dunned to death by that 
Israelitish female at unexpected intervals — I am determined that dear 
girl shall never learn to what folly I descended, (loud knock) Holloa, I 
can't stand sudden in-knock-ulation ! 

Enter Tom, with note, i». 

Tom (aside, glancing in looking-glass). This auburn is getting auburner. 
(aloud) Another letter for master— same old party, sir. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 9 

Mb. S. What old party ? 

Tom (r.). As called an hour ago with note for missus. 

Mr. S. (alamned). Note for your mistress? You surely didn't give it 
ber ? 

Tom. No, sir. (aside) Jelly did ; he've been doing something in the fore- 
paw line, you may depend. 

Mr. S. What a relief! 

Tom. That ain't a hamiable woman as brought it 

Mr. S. I didn't ask for your opinion. 

Tom. No ; I give it gratis. 

Mr. S. {aside). Perhaps I d better take this fellow into my confidence. 
(aloud) Tom! 

Tom. Sir. 

Mr. S. You needn't mention anything to your mistress about this 
female calling. 

Tom. Certainly not. Now we understand each other. Loi ' bless you, 
hold flames will keep turning hup ; ain't nothing so hard to hextinguish 
as a hold flame. 

Mr. S. Old flame ! What the devil do you mean, sir 7 

Tom. No offence to the party, sir. Now I dare say she waren't bad- 
looking when she was younger. Them Boosey girls as I knew, went off 
hugly at a hurly age. 

Mr. S. What do you mean to insinuate, you rascal 1 

Tom. Oh, nothing, I'm fly ; it's all safe with me. Lor' bless you, I 
likes a lark myself. I remember spending a 'appy, 'appy day. 

Mr. S. (sternly). Leave the room, sir. (crosses r., aside) Confound his 
impudence. 

Tom (going, aside). That comes of lowering oneself. Similiarity breeds 
distemper — you'll catch me taking you in my confidence again. [Exit, r. 

Mr. S. (opening note). Another agonizing reminder, "£10. Balm of 
Sahara! " infernal swindle. If it wasn't for fear of ridicule, I'd protest 
against this female Philistine. Bah ! what's the use of exciting myself] 
Hulloa ! what's this ? " This account will be forwarded to Mrs. Simple- 
ton." Selina, Sahara, Sarah ! She'll know all— perhaps she does already. 
Hush, she comes, I must compose myself. 

Enter Mrs. Simplelton, c. 

Ah, Selina, my dear, what's the matter, are you ill] 

Mrs. S. (r.). No, dear Edward, always well when I see you ; yon are 
the true balm. 

Mr. S. (aside, l.). Balm — she means Balm of Sahara — she must have 
seen the bill. 

Mrs. S. I'm distressed, we spent so much money on our wedding tour. 

Mr. S. (relieved). That all? I expect a remittance from my uncle. 
(aside) I wish it was here. 

Mrs. S. We ought to be more careful, dear, only think in the event 
of your dying. 

Mb. S. (starting). Dying ! (puts hand to hair) Shouldn't think of dy- 
ing, it's more expensive than living, (aside) She must have seen the 
bill. 

Mrs. S. I feel I have been the cause of all this expense. 

Mr. S. You ! (aside) Then she hasn't seen it. 

Mrs. S. And now to knew I am powerless to assist a most urgent case 
of affliction. Oh, Edward, how selfish I have been, what good I could 
have done with that £10 you spent at the baths. 

Mr. S. (aside). £10 spent at the baths. Oh, it's all up. 



10 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Mrs. S. And poor old Jelly is so shaky. 

Mr. S. Most old jellies are, dear. What old Jelly 1 

Mrs. S. Jelly's aunt. Oh, poor old creature, she's going fast. 

Mr. S. Melting ! What's the matter with her 1 

Mrs. S. Concussion of the eternal region of the external membrane 
of the brain, and paralysis of everything. If she gets over it, it will be 
a miracle, {crying) Oh, what a selfish creature, when 1 could have got out 
of the scrape if she had the money. Ten po — pounds you spent at the 
baths on me, would have paid her bill. Oh, oh, oh ! 

Mr. S. So it would, {aside) What a brute I am, I should never think 
of doing a good action if it wasn't for this angel, {aloud) Come, come, 
Selina, I can deny you nothing, I never can bear to see a woman weep. 
You shall have the money. 

Mrs. S. {kissing htm). Oh, Edward, thank you. {aside) Saved ! 

Mrs. S. And now, my darling, accept these modest little flowers, em- 
blems of your artless, simple nature, {aside) I ain't fit to be trusted with 
such a treasure. 

Mrs. S. How beautiful, {aside) And to think of my deception, {aloud) 
I'll ring, and have them put in water, {rings.) 

Enter Jelly, c. door — Mrs. Simpleton gives her the flowers. 

Take care of these. 

Jel. How beautiful they do smell. Give me natur', mum, I say — 
{turning to Mr. S.) — Ah, I always says, give me natur', sir. 

Mr. S. {aside). Confound the girl, {aloud) By the way, Jelly, I'm 
sorry to hear this sad account of your aunt 

Jel. {surprised). My aunt ! (Mrs. S. motions to her) Now what's she 
telegraphing about, {seems bewildered.) 

Mr. S. Is she very bad 1 

Jel. Not a bit. {suddenly sees Mrs. S. signalling — changes her tone) Haw- 
fu!, sir. 

Mr. S. What's the cause *? 

Jel. {aside). I'm done now. {aloud) The cause, the cause, the rooks 
is the caws. 

Mrs. S. {prompting her). The membrane of the brain gone. 

Jel. {repeating). The main drain of the brain bust. 

Mrs. S. {throwing up her hands — aside). You'll ruin me. {prompting 
her again — aside) Chronic inflammation of the bronchial tubes. 

Jel. {boldly). Comic inflammation of the parochial tubes. 

Mr. S. {laughing). Comic inflammation of the parochial tubes, Jelly ! 
I see you haven't studied anatomy. Your missus has begged me to pre- 
sent this to the poor old creature, {gives Jelly money.) 

Jel. {aside). Now whatever have she been telling master. (Mrs S. 
signals Jelly the money isn't f or her) Now she's telegraphing again. 
The money don't go by wire, r p 0C Jcets it) Please, sir 

Mr. S. Thank your mistress, not me. 

Jel. Please, mum t shall ne ver for^t lhis 

Mr. S. And now, Selina toil mo . t C *j v 

Moo «4 q rt h*™l 7 ' 1! rae T have ma ^ vou nappy. 

her again.) ' ( ^ } WheD l S et the mone - v from Jel1 ?- (">***• 

Mr S r * don't understand them signals, 
calls b f me * niY d p ar we shall haHlv have time to pav our wedding 
fore dinner. Ome. mv pet. (lendinq her of. c ) 

i rs. g rp nat R t nn ;^ gj r ] vrnn't, understand. {<>s he leads her of, she 
Urm and keeps siqnnttina to Jelly.) 

Jel. Now whatever have she been up to ? she've been telling mastei 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 11 

a fib! However, she've paid me handsome for swearing to it, and I ain't 
a-going to turn up my nose at £10 or to make mischief in the family ; 
we've ail got our little piccadxllies, only some of us lets them out pell mell 
and some on us hides them, though what she means by main drains, 
parochial tubes and currant jellies is a mysterious mystery to me. 

Enter Mrs. Simpleton, with bonnet on, hurriedly, c. 

Mrs. S. Quick, Jelly, before he comes, {holds out hand for money.) 

Jel. You'll excuse me, but 

Mr S. {coming in a). Quite ready, Selina 1 

Mrs. S. Too late, {aside to Jelly) You'll keep it, mind, ready, dear. 

[Exeunt, l. 

Jel. Keep it 1 I should think I would keep it. Stop, she means the 
secret. She's going to tell me something she don't want her master to 
know. £10 ain't picked up every day, and the hartful way she drawed 
it out of master. It come most opera-tune, just when I got the address 
of that Rebecca Paynter, and just when them tan spots over my templei s 
is worse than ever. I'll be off and have a pot or two of the Anti-what- 
you-call-it, afore missus comes back. [Exit, l. door. 

Enter Tom, reading paper, c. 

Tom. It's no use calling it auburn, the boys won't have it. Carrots, 
nothing short of carrots will do for them. My life's a burden to me. 
The comments of them convivial young convicts is heartrending, not as 
vulgar remarks is confined to the street though. When I went to buy this 
turnip {showing watch) the other day, that sneaking young man couldn't 
hand it over without insulting me, by saying it was ten carrots ! carrots 
here, carrots there ! damn carrots, {looking at paper) Here it is again — 
my optics is always catching this 'air paragraph, {sits down down, reads) 
" Strengthens the roots, and makes it turn black." 

Enter Mrs. Simpleton, hurriedly, l. 

Mrs. S. {aside). I made an excuse to come back for my card-case. 
(to Tom) Where's Jelly ? 

Tom. Turned black ! beg pardon, mum, that dying sensation is coming 
over me again ; Jelly's gone out. 

Mrs. S. Gone out ! 

Tom. Yes mum, to her aunt's. 

Mrs. S. What for ? 

Tom. I heard her say there was a trifle of money as she was going to 
make over. 

Mrs S. {aside). My money lost ! {aloud) Money 1 

Tom. Yes, money strengthens the root of all evil ! sixteen shillings the 
pot. 

{Voice of Simpleton at back, l., calling"). Selina ! 

Tom. That's master's voice. I'm off. [Exit, c. 

Mr S {coming in l.). Found it, my dear ? 

Mrs S. Yes, dear, {showing card-case.) 

Mr. S. Since we have come back, I'll just drop uncle a line about that 
remittance, (sits at fable.) 

Mrs S (aside) This suspense is killing: me ; surely that girl cannot 
BupnoRp Mr* mnney was ever intended for her? 

Mr. S. There, my dear, I hope this appeal may succeed. 



12 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Enter Jelly, with parcel, l. door. 

Jelly. What, missus back already 1 {pockets parcel.) 

Mrs. S. Now, then, quick, Jelly, let me have the money. 

Jel. What monev ? 

Mrs. S. Why, the £10. 

Jel. £10, why, I've spent it, I thought it was to keep a secret. 

Mrs. S. Spent it, I shall go mad. 

Mr. S. (rising from table). Now, then, Selina, I'm ready. Why, what's 
the matter ? 

Mrs. S. (with an effort). Nothing — come — lost ! 

[Exeunt Mr. and Mrs. Simpleton, l. 

Jel. What does she mean by wanting the money 1 both o.f us seems to 
want it. It's too late now. I've got it— 1 ve did it. (undoes numerous 
parcels from pomatum-pot. Tom puts in his head, c, and watches her) By 
. the time I waits on m «ster and missus I shall be made " beautiful for- 
ever." (reads) I'll go and put it in my room, but first I'll go down in the 
kitchen and see cook's got everything ready for dinner, so as not to be 
disturbed. [Exit, l. 

Tom (coming in, a). She've got it; hup in her room is it? while she's 
down in the kitchen, I'll be hup in my lady's chamber. [Exit, l. 

Enter Mr. Simpleton, c. 

Mr. S. Confound it, we shall never get out of the house to-day. I for- 
got the note after all. What an angel Selina is; she actually wanted to 
come back for it. [Exit, l. 

EnUr Tom, with small pot and two enormous hair brushes, r. 

Tom. I got a bit of it. (reads) " Extract from the Honey of Mount 
Nibbler — dyes black in an hour.'- I always thought hanging was the 
best thing for dying black, (reads) " Penetrates the roots and is taken up 
by the pillory substraction." Dab, says Daniel. ( puts lump on brush) I 
left Jelly half. What business has she with it at all 1 Jelly and hair don't 
go together in this fashion. Confound William Rufus ! I say serves him 
right for getting what he did from Wat Tyler. Carrots was first intro- 
duced into England by William Rufus. who was a market gardener in 
Southampton-street, Strand. Dab, says Daniel. ( puts another tump on the 
othir brush) This wholesome and injudicious vegetable sprung up rapidly 
in the neighborhood of the fatherless children, (looking at brush) It's a 
melting now. I'll just have a lock to keep as a disgusting example, (cuts 
piece off with a knife — bus ness) Vermillion, that it is, here goes, (takes 
both brushes, rubs fearfully) Dye, villain, dye ! would you ? More grease. 
(business) Dye, will you 1 (brushes hair rapidly, brushes away fatter and 
faster, then slower and slower till he sinks exhausted into chair, drops brushes 
from fatigue, not having strength to get them over his head. Violent ring 
heard, Jumping up) Master! ( picks up brushes, takes pot of grease, in going 
drops brushes, then pot, etc. Business — exit. ) 

Enter Jelly, l. 

Jelly How that stuff do pvaporate to be sure ; there's more nor half 
of it «one I've done mv face all over, I've followed the corrections 
and rubbed it into the reticule, and now I'm to sit in a currant jelly— 
of hair, I mean. I'll get Eliza to blow on it with the kitchen bellows. 

[Exit, l. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 13 



Enter Mr. and Mrs. Simpleton, c. 

Mr. S. {aside). Well, I thought Listen was good for ten pounds. 
Mrs S. {aside). I thought Mariana might have advanced the amount. 

Enter Tom with two notes, c. — gives one to Mrs. Simpleton. 

Tom. {slyly). It's the hold flame turned up again, {crosses to Mrs. Sim- 
pleton with note — aside) It's the same hold party, ma'am, {aside) Won't 
there be a shine if he've been doing anything in the fore-paw line 1 
{glincinj in glass as he goes off) It's a stabler hue, 1 think, {exits c. Mr. 
ani \Is3 Simpleton look at each other-) 

Ma. S. {aside) It will be all up with me directly — that's my bill. 

Mrs. S. {aside). Oh, dear, my bill, no doubt. 

Ms S {texrinj opvi ntie, -horrifi.2 1). Mrs. Simpleton's bill ! 

Mas S {opening note). Mr. Simpleton's bill ! 

Ms. S. Midsm?, what do you mean by this folly 1 you know my ab- 
Horrance of this. 

M ss. 8. Then, sir, perhaps you'll explain this. 

Mi S {stirting). Sold! my own bill. 

Mss. S. Ei.viri. the fact of the matter is, we have been deceiving 
each other, and without even the excuse of ignorance. Neither of us 
coul 1 hive been silly enough to suppose that this impostor and charlatan 
coul i stop the ravages of time, or that her gross and glaring daubing 
couli ever be an imitation of the bloom of health. The only color she 
could send into honest cheeks, is one of shame, to think she is permitted 
to reap a harvest from the victims to her lying announcements. 

Ms S. Bilieve me, my dear; my only desire was to please in your 
eyes. 

Mas. S. And mine was to be beautiful forever in yours, and I know I 
shall b?st be so by being natural. 

Mr. S. Selina ! {kissmj her) It's quite affecting. 1 declare, there's un- 
cle coming up the garden ; let's go and meet him. {aside) Ton my soul, 
it's quite affecting. [Exeunt, c. 

Enter Jelly, l., crying — her face is spotted red. 

Jelly. Oh, dear, I shall die — here's a state — what a fool I was to be 
made beau iful forever — I'm a spotted hyena — I shall take the next 
steamer to Vesuvius, as I hear that's a good place for eruptions. Oh, 
ray, oh, my ! whatever will become of me 1 {covers face with her apron 
ani cries.) 

Enter Toil, l., he has on a light bright green wig, and is perfectly tinconscions 
of the change his hair has undergone. 

Tom. I say, Jelly, what's all this 1 

Jel. Why, whats the matter with your hair 1 {pause. They stand look- 
ing at each other.) 

Tom. {alarmed). My hair 1 none of your larks, {they Both go to looking- 
glass. > 

Tom {petrified). It's took! 

Jel. What's took. 

Tom. The stuff! the stuff I stole. I'm going mad — let me dash my 
brains out Greens ! carrots before greens now. Oh, dear, we're a 
charming pair for a convivial caravan ; the spotted female, and the 



14 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

green man. and still-— them conwivial young convicts-the boys, will be 
fatal to me. Oh, Jelly, let me hide my unfinished head, {they 'fall into 

JrI Aud7 nS ' s T fV0) ° h ' ° h ' ° h ! 0b> my ! °^ °k> oh ! 

Tom. £10? 

Jel. Yes, paid on the spot. 

Tom. Paia on the spots, you mean — how jolly green — oh, ray, that 
word, I'm going mad. {fads into Jelly's arms, tries to cover his 'head. 
Business. ) 

Jel. I can't show my face. 

Tom. And I must hide my head. Oh, Jelly Green, Jolly green ! mad, 
Ob, oh, oh ! {business again.) 

Enter Me. and 'Mrs. Simpleton, c. 

Mr. S. What are you two about ] {separates them.) 

Mrs. S. Jelly, whatever have you done to your face ? 

Jel. Oh, mum. {hides her face.) 

Mr. S. And what trick have you been playing with your hair ? 

Tom. Trick ! it's the turn-up— one for his knob. It's the advertise- 
* ent. We've been making ourselves beautiful forever and ever. I 
should like a-half holiday to-morrow to dash my brains out, if you please, 
sir. 

Jel. Oh, ma'am, whatever shall I do with my face 1 

Mrs. S. Edward, we have had a narrow escape, {aloud) Foolish girl, 
a little cold cream will remove those spots. 

Mr. S. And your hair will soon come to its natural color.' 

Tom. Natural color ! I don't want it to. 

Mrs. S. Edward, we need, I think, say nothing more on this head, 
and in the face of that, ( pointing to Jelly) we may congratulate our- 
selves on not being made 

Tom ) 

and > Beautiful forever ! 

Jel. ) 

Jelly * *Mrs. Simpleton. 

Tom.* *Mr. Simpleton. 

CURTAIN. 



SYNOPSIS. 

A very handsomely-furnished room is the scene in which Tommy, a servant, and 
Jelly, a chambermaid, are discovered when the curtain rises. Tommy is reading 
the advertisement of a compound that makes everybody "beautiful for ever," to 
the amazement of Jelly. Mrs. Simpleton comes in, and stops their chatter ; but 
it is soon made apparent that the lady herself has been trying the virtues of the 
" beautiful for ever," and is alarmed lest her husband should find it out. The hus- 
band comes in to present her with a bunch of primrose, " emblems of her unso- 
phisticated purity ;" while he, at the same time, is afraid that his better half 
should discover that he had been using the Balm of Sahara to dye his hair. Then 
follow very funny complications. Every reference to balm or dying makes Mr. S. 
grow pale, while a hint about " beautiful for ever" makes Mrs. S. positively ugly. 
The servants follow in the footsteps of their superiors, and indulge in the use of 
the same beautifiers. The denouement is both droll and satisfactory, when all 
hands are forced to own up to their futile attempts to render themselves " Beauti- 
ful for Ever." 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. ' 15 

CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Prince of Wales's Theatre, Liverpool 
September 14, 16t>8. 

Mr. Simpleton ("Walking Gentleman) Mr. Holman. 

Tom (Servant to Air. bimpieton— Low Comedy) Mr. T. Thoeke. 

Mrs. Simpleton (Walking Lady)..' Miss Newton. 

Jelly (Chambermaid.) Miss Bella Goodall. 



SCENERY. 

SCENE.— Interior, richly furnished, in 3d grooves. 

backing, wall. 

' | Door. I —3 

♦Chair. Chair* 



[Fireplace. 



Door. Door. 

*! I* 7* 

Table and Chairs. : 



Carpet down. Pictures on flat ; ornaments on mantel-Diece ; rug to fireplace , 
looking-glass over mantel. 



PROPERTIES. 



Newspaper, two letters in envelopes, open ; bunch of flowers, hand-bell on table, 
two bankbills for Simpleton, watch for Tom, card-case for Simpleton, pens, ink 
and paper on table, parcel in brown paper, containing pomade pots, hair oil bottles, 
scent bottles ; two large hair brushes, bell ready, e. u. e., to ring, off ; bright green 
Wig for Tom. 



TIME AND COSTUMES— THE PRESENT DAY. 



TIME OF PLAYING— FORTY MINUTES. 



A CUP OF TEA. 



SCENE. — Drawing -room. Interior in Ath grooves. Lamps lit on tabic. 

Discover Joseph asleep, with newspaper in his hand, seated in chair, b. of l. 

table. 

Joseph (yawns, looks r., rubs his eyes). Past one o'clock ! I declare I 
may think myself lucky if I gets to bed by five. So it goes through the 
season — till I'm regularly knocked up for want of my nateral rest. 
Hullo! (rises) there's our carriage, (to window, l. 1 e.) They've come, 
and 1 shall git to bed at last! (looks out of window) Hullo ! it's a strange 
gentleman as is a-gittin' h'out ! (in horror) if they h'ain't gone an' 
brought somebody ome with them from the ball ! Well, I never ! I 
shan't git to bed to-night! (hands in pocket) Well, b'if they wants h'any- 
think, I'm blest if they mustn't >ing for it ! 

[Exit l., proscenium e., shaking his head. 

Enter, d. in f., Scroggins, timidly. 

Scroggins (at d. in f.). I beg pardon! (comes down c, timidly) I hope 
I am not intruding. Eh ? (listens, looks round) There's nobody here. 
How strange that I should have come to this place, I'll leave it to the 
unprejudiced opinion of any unprejudiced person, if I have not come 
strangely to this place, (confidentially) It's all the fault of my landlord. 
My landlord, like most landlords, has a daughter, but. unlike most daugh- 
ters of most landlords, she was married this day, and on the occasion 
of her union, he gave a grand ball. As the tenant for whom he has the 
highest esteem — I lodge in the attics, furnished — I was invited. The 
revelry was at its acme — when, judge of my dismay, when I perceived 
that my vis-a-vis was one of my creditors — a man who has been looking 
for me ever since I last changed my addiess. I left the rooms — lie fol- 
lowed — I reached the street — he was at my heels ! In another five seconds 
I would have been arrested, when — a bright thought struck me ! before 
a dwelling where there were eviaences of a grand entertainment, a rank 
of stylish carriages were waiting. I sprang into one, with the intention 
of passing out on the other side to baffle my remorseless creditor, when 
— oh, fate! the footman slammed the door shut behind me. I could not 
open the other, and the coachman— jabbering some foreign lingo — 
whipped up the horses as if he, too, had a creditor at his back. In vain 
my remonstrances— I had to resign myself to my fate. I was driven up 
to this door — the gates opened to me. I got out as it were, mechanical- 
ly. I ascended the stairs mechanically ! ] enlered this room, and here 
I am. But where am I ? What, a splendid place ! (abruptly) If anybody 
comes, I'll— oh, what if I should ho taken lor a thief! That would still 
be my usual luck ! For the last six months, I have spent all my time 
(I had no money to spend) in running about to avoid my creditors. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 17 

And in love-matters I have been equally unfortunate. Oh, Euphrasia! 
Euphrasia ! 1 have even found you look down upon me since you left 
the humble and guileless ballet of the Alhambra for the gentle shades of 
the Lyceum, with a perspective of Cremorne for the summer ! Ah ! viper ! 
(takes no'e from his inner coat-pocket) this vile scrap of paper is my ser- 
pent ! What an awful sensation I have, (reads) " Dear and loved one. 
I will wait at the stage-door. Charles." Charles ! Char-Ies ! Chawles! 
Short but sharp. No other clue. Stamped with initials — I may be able 
to find my rival by the stamp. But it is evident I shall not find him 
here— so 1 will depart. But how? Oh, Euphrasia ! Ah! (to l.) there's 
a corridor! (at l. 1 e.) There must be a doorway somewhere. Oh! 
Euphrasia I (exit l , proscenium e.) Euphrasia ! (of.) 

Enter, d. in p., Lady Clara and Sir Charles. She comes down c, he re- 
moves his overcoat and hat, which he places on cabinet up R. She takes ojf 
opera-cloak. 

Lady C. (l. c, front). My dear Charles, I hope you are at last con- 
vinced that your coachman is a dangerous fellow. Not content with 
risking our lives by driving while in a state of intoxication — intoxication, 
sir, I insist — he now takes it into his head to drive off altogether, and 
leave us to get home as best we could. 

Sir C. I confess the fellow shows great impudence, but perhaps he 
did not understand the orders to wait. 

Lady C. (seated l. c, front). Not understand ! He can understand Eng- 
lish. (Sir Charles hums an operatic air, r. c. front) It's on a par with 
your curious copying of the court, to have everybody about you Ger- 
man. 

Sir C It's too bad, really too bad of the fellow, but then, you must 
allow, there are no coachmen like the Germans. 

Lady C. (tosses her head). Oh, I know that when you once take a fan- 
cy to anybody, there's no way of getting you out of it. 

Sir C. There's not much to choose between us. You will not hear of 
my discharging Peters the porter, yet he is lazy and insolent, and quite 
unfitted for the post. He's so deaf and purblind, too, that, as you know, 
we had much difficulty in setting indoors just now. He would have it 
that we had come h me in the carriage an hour ago. 

Lady C. But Peters is an old servant of my mother's, and I will not 
have one who has served our family faithfully turned out into the cold. 

Sir C. Oh, very well. 

Lady C. Very well, sir, I shall retain Peters, (rises.) 

Sir C. And I shall keep Groganoff! (goes up for his hat % leisurely) 
There, I perceive you are fatigued and. wish to retire. I won't detain 
you. Good-night, dear. 

Lady C. What, are you going back to the ball? To dance with Lady 
Castlevaine ? that makes four or five times you have done it. 

Sir C. Four or five times ! Why, my dear Clara, how you exaggerate. 
I only waltzed with her twice, dear. She's the only lady in all London 
who knows how to dance — after you. 

Lady C. Oh, I dare say ! By all means, return to the ball. When 
one has loved a woman for four years, it is quite natural you should find 
pleasure in meeting her. (seated l. c, front.) 

Sir C. (comes beside Lady Clara). Don't he silly ! you know, my dear 
Clara, that I have never loved any one but you. 

Lady C. (repulses his attempt to embrace her. rises). Then you are a ter- 
rible hvpocrite, sir ! 

Sir C. My darling ! (c.) 



18 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Lady C. Never mind, never mind ! I am not surprised that you had 
the good taste to marry me, but I do wonder that you could have escaped 
so fascinating a flirt. You would have made a better match there. 

Sir C. Ah ! I know that you do not think so ! And I forgive you. Ask 
my pardon. 

Lady C. Upon my word ! Oh she is lovely — at a ball ; and her taste 
is for high things, always, except her dresses. She has no fickle mind- 
it's the same lace to-night that I saw on her two years ago. 

Sir C You alarm me ! I had no idea you had such a wicked tongue. 

Lady C. But you had better go, if you would not be late for the co- 
tillion, (up l. , and comes down slowly.') 

Sir C. Have you no confidence in mel 

Lady C. I am not your dupe, sir, that's all. (a, front.) 

Sir C. Ah ! what an odious thing is jealousy ! Why, my darling, if I 
were to see a man kneeling at your feet, 1 should not suspect you, but be- 
live him only your shoemaker! {laughs) Ha, ha ! {goes up b. and returns 
leisurely.) 

Lady C, Are you sure 1 

Sir C. Perfectly sure. It's the last thing in the world for me to be jeal- 
ous. 

Lady C. Take care, sir. You never should defy a woman. 

Sir C. I can't help it. It's my nature! What if 1 were to give you a 
proof of it. {seats himself r. c. front. Lady Clara seated l. c. front) At the 
ball quite by chance I overheard old Lady Trimmins prattling about the 
attentions paid to you hy a certain Mr. Howard — I think. 

Lady C. {angrily). Lady Trimmins is a meddling, scandal-mongering, 
impudent old woman 1 

Sir C. Very likely. They say this Mr. Howard is a terrible lady-killer. 
I had not the pleasure of seeing him, as I was in the saloon. But I 
know too well how a lady can regard her mere cavaliers. There you see 
if you had not led the conversation to this subject, I should certainly 
have forgotten every bit of it. I have every confidence in you, my dear. 

Lady C. A most deserving trust of yours So much love that there 
is no room for jealousy ? 

Sir C. Jealousy ! {snaps his fingers) That's the most foolish passion in 
the world. It must have been invented by some envious fellow who 
could not get anybody to love him, and so tried to spoil everybody else's 
joy. {up r. toget his overcoat and hat) When they make out the list of 
jealous husbands, my name will be missed among them. 

Lady C. Your name will be missed on the engagement-cards if you 
are not soon back to the ball, {takes seat l c, front.) 

Sir C. Good-night \ Now, were I jealous, I might think that you 
wanted to get rid of me ! Good-night ! 

Lady C. {looking front, carelessly). Good-night! (Sir C. comes down 
end tries to kiss her. She struggles) No, no, no ! {rises.) 

Sir C. {kisses her). Come, Clara ! This won't do ! Pleasant dreams, 
Clara ! 1 hope you will wake up more reasonable, (up c.) Good-night! 

Lady C. ( pleasantly). Good-night ! (exit Sir C. ». d., takes teat as be- 
fore) I wonder if he will go back to the ball 1 (removes some of her 
jewelry) After all, what does it matter to me 1 I would give all my 
pearls and diamonds to put Charles's faith to the test. Fond of a woman 
and not jealous ! (takes up hand-glass) Am I so ugly {looks at her re- 
flection) that no one could take a fancy to me ? No ! (sets down glass) 
Oh, these men! these men! they are all alike! Ah! I'll sit up all 
night, I'll paint my face. I'll dye my hair the color of carrots, and when 
I have succeeded in making myself hideous, and insupportable, I shall 
triumph ! all the men will go wild about me, and Charles will be jealous, 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 19 

{goes up c.) I did not hear him leave. I wonder if he has gone to the 
ball ? (to r. d.) I hear nothing. 

Enter, L., proscenium e., cautiously, Scroggins, to l. c. 

Scrog. I can't get out ! It's a perfect labyrinth. There don't seem to 
be any doors, {up c.) 

Lady C. {turns, sees Scroggins). Oh, a man! a thief! and I am 
alone! oh! take everything but spare my life ! oh! (Scroggins is as 
much frightened as Lady Clara herself.) 

Scrog Take everything, {bows awkwardly) She evidently takes me 
for a burglar, {aloud) Madam, 1 only want 

Lady C There are my jewels— my money 

Scrog. The key 

Lady C. They're in the drawers ! but spare me- 

Scrog. The key to the front door. 

Lady C. Take all, and go — go with your gang 

Scrog. My — my gang ! Madam, 1 am quite alone here I haven't 
got any gang! Its quite by accident, and all the fault of my landlord, 
that I am lost in this mysterious house. 

Lady C. {manner changes to haughtiness). Only a man, sir > 

Scrog Nothing more, ma'am, 1 assure you ! 

Lady C. A stranger here, without invitation 1 How dare you present 
yourself at this hour of the night? 

Scrog. It's not my fault— it's all the fault of my landlord! 

Lady C. His landlord 1 Then, you are not a thief? 

Scrog. I assure you I have hard enough work to get my living honest- 
ly as it is ! 

Lady C. How comes an honest man secretly in my house ? 

Scrog. If you'll allow me to speak, I will find pleasure in explaining. 

Lady C. {aside). The man has a stupid soitof air that encourages 
me. {aloud) In short, sir, how did you come here 1 (c.) 

Scrog. (r. c). In a lovely carriage, ma'am. A chariot drawn by two 
very fast horses. 

Lady C. A chariot! 

Scrog. Which brought me from Portland Square to this house in a 
twinkling. 

Lady C. {aside). My chariot brought this man to my house. Oh I be- 
gin to see. 

Scrog (aside). She's a lovely creature ! (aloud) Madam, a matter 
which deeply affects my heart, (aside) and pocket! (aloud) over which 
permit me to draw the curtain — forced me to fly from a person with whoir 
I had an account to settle 

Lady C. (puzzled). What then 1 

Scrog. There was no other means of escape so I jumped into a cai 
riage, with the intention of leaving on the other side, when, just as I 
was getting out, the coachman drove off, and replied to all my cries for 
him to whoa ! in a foreign gibberish. 

Lady C. (laughing). Oh, I see. 

Scrog. (aside). She sees ! the lovely woman sees ! (joins in the laugh, 
till she gives him a sfvere look, when he ceases to laugh.) 

Lady C. (h If aside). I am delighted for Charles's sake that this has 
happened. We'll see now if he will still take Groganoft's part. 

Scrog. Groganoff! the coachman ? Ah! I thought he was a German, 
or, from the pace we went a Rushin ! 

Lady C. I understand it all, nov#. 



20 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Scrog. (joyfully). She understands it all ! Splendid creature. Then, 
madam, as you understand it all, 1 have no doubt you see how innocent 
I am in the matter. But you may search me if you like ! Virtue will 
submit even to feeling the lining of his hat. 

Lady C. (laughs). I have every confidence in you, sir. 
Scroo. Thank you ! your confidence honors me ! Not that I wish to 
break off this pleasant little conversation, but in consideration for you, 
I will be much obliged to you if you'll have me shown to the door. 
(looks r.) It is two o'clock, you see. 
Lady G. Two o'clock ! so it is. I had no idea time had flown so. 
Scrog. (ga lantly). Oh ! in your company ! 

Lady C. (aside). Ah ! the little man is pretty intelligent, after all ! 
(rises) Suppose I ring — stay! What will the servants think? Sir, you 
have placed me in a most embarrassing dilemma. Call my man to find 
me alone with a strange gentleman, at two o'clock in the morning. 
(walks up and down c.) It is a most indelicate predicament! 

Scroo. Most indelicate for me! Frightful, I confess! Is there no 
way of getting out except the regular entrance 1 

Lady C. I know of none— (pause, looks l. 1 e.) Except that win- 
dow. 

Scrog. Ah ! (joyfully to window, l. 1 e. , looks out, turns round with a 
glum expression) Isn't it reether high ? (shudders.) 
Lady C. 1 can't help it if k is. Any way, it is only the second floor! 
Scroo. Only the second floor ! It might as well be the top of St. 
Paul's! {returns to l. c.) I beg pardon, madam, but I am constitutional- 
ly nervous. I know that [ should never have the courage to drop, if 
once I hung outside that window, and I would swing there, uttering the 
most powerful shrieks ! And if I aroused the neighbors, I think you 
will admit, that would be a more indelicate position than the other one! 
Lady C. Right, sir. You can shut the window. 
Scrog. (aside). She is a scrumptious creature ! 
Lady C. (louder). Snut the window ! 

Scrog. (to l. 1 e.). I'd rather do that than jump out of it ! (closes 
window.) 

Lady C. I must think of something else. 

Scrog. (abruptly). Haven't you your latch-key ? I always carry mine ! 
Lady C. {aside). He begins to be a burden. I hear nothing from 
Charles' room ! I must call him — there's no fear of a mistake. He is 
not at all jealous. ( pauses. Scroggins goes up l., looking around) At 
least he dins it into my ears often enough, that he is not. ( puts her hand 
on the spring-bell, but checks herself) Stop, stop ! now I think of it—that 
story of Mr. Howard. (Scroggins nearly upsets table up l c, and stops, 
frightened) He does not know him even by sight. I have a good mind 
to play this common card off for the court-cavd on him ! Why not! I 
will ! 

Scrog. (aside). Quarter past two! it's forty-five to three that I'll not 
get clear of it. (going to steal out d. in f.) 

Lady C. Sir! (Scroggins turns and comes down l. c.) I have found 
the way to get out of it. (motioning him to take seat, r. c.) 
Scrog. I beg pardon ! 

Lady 0. I have found the way to get out of it. {takes seat, l. c, 
facing r.) Pie ise to sit there. 

Scrog, {surprised, falls into chair, n. o, facing her, troubled with his hat, 
etc.). Is this the way out of it? 

Lady C. To open with 

Scroo. What — to ■ open with? (bewildered.) 

Last C. Are you not in some profession or calling ? 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 21 

Scrog. Madam I am a — a clerk, {aside) in a printer's office. I was edu- 
cated for the bar. 

Lady C. I am looking for a steward, to replace my present one. You 
wouid suit, if you find no objections. 

Scrog. Steward ! (looks around) in such a splendid house ! (looks at 
Lady C, aside) and to such a generous creature ! 

Lady C. The salary is two hundred pounds, and perquisites. 

Scrog. Two hundred pounds, and perquisites! exquisite ! 

Lady C. Do you accept? 

Scrog. Accept with enthusiasm! enthusiasm! 

Lady C. Agreed then. 

Scrog. Agreed ! 

Lady C. Might I ask your name % 

Scrog. Oh ! my name is Scroggins ! 

Lady C. (laughs). Scrog — ha, ha, ha ! 

Scrog, No, madam ! (dignified) not Scrog — ha, ha, ha ! but Scrog- 
gins ! 

Lady C. Scroggins. I beg your pardon. Would vou mind changing 
it? 

Scrog. Oh, not at all. (aside) Two hundred pounds ! " A rose by any 
other name would — sound as well." Anything to oblige you ! 

Lady C. "What do you say to — to Howard? 

Scrog. By all means ! let it be Howard ! (aside) two hundred pounds 
Howard on me— I mean showered on me. Let me see. Two hundred 
— four pounds a week and perquisites 

Lady C. Mr. Howard ! (Scroggins absently counting on his fingers) Mr. 
Howard! Mr. How — aid! 

Scrog. Eh ! oh ! 

Lady C. Will you take a cup of tea, Mr. Howard? 

Scrog. I beg your pardon, I quite forgot my name. I really should 
enjoy a cup of tea ! 

Lady C. (aside). Charles makes no sign, yet we are talking loud 
enough ! (rings.) 

Scrog. (aside). The early breakfast-house. 

Enter, l., proscenium e., Joseph, startled at seeing Scroggins. 

Joseph. Did your ladyship ring 7 

Scrog. (aside). Your ladyship ! (draws his chair more right, r.) A real 
live ladyship ! and I have not got my gloves, (feels his pockets.) 

Lady C. Yes, Joseph ! 

Joseph. Yes, my lady ! 

Lady C. Bring in some sandwiches, wine and tea. 

Joseph, (puzzled). I beg pardon, my lady. 

Lady C. Some sandwiches, wine and tea. (Joseph bows.) 

Scrog. (aside). Here's style! I wonder if I could order such a bloom- 
ing giant around ? [Exit Joseph l., proscenium, e. 

Lady C. (looks up r. 2 e.). There he is ! (Sir Charles was just coming 
on by r. d., when he saw Scroggins. He slips out and hides himself behind 
curtains, d. in f.. showing himself during following) lie is listening, (aloud 
to Scroggins) Mr. Howard ! Mr. Howard ! (Scroggins starts.) 

Sir C. (in a whisper). Howard ! 

Lady C. How fortunate it was that I should have met you at the ball. 

Scrog. (amazed, aside). The scrumptious woman was at my landlord's 
ball ! Oh ! (aloud) Oh, very fortunate ! 

Lady C. But I must say that I do not agree with your ideas upon di- 
plomacy. 



22 AMATEUR AXD PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Scrog. {aside). My ideas upon dip — dip — she dips too deep for me. 

Lady C. Your reasons are rather weak, I lake it. 

Scrog. {aside). My reasons are weak ? my head is. I cannot follow 
her. 

Lady C. It all depends upon the fitness of the occupant for the post. 

Scrog. The post, {joyfully) I see ! she means the post-office. Yes, 
madam, the post-office is one of those offices where the — {aside)— dear 
me ! I wonder what posts am I talking about ! 

Lady C. I admit that there are some places at which one might toss 
his head. 

Scrog. It depends upon the style of the head ! {aside) I wonder if 
she takes the compliment. 

Lady C. Ah ! we shall have plenty of time to talk it over, for we shall 
see each other often. 

Scrog. Of course, if I am to be in the same house. (Sir Charles 
shows his face, inflamed with passion, between curtains.) 

Lady C. It's a very pretty place where we spend the summer. I sup- 
pose you will come down into the country with us. 

Scrog. I will be delighted to follow your ladyship anywhere {aside) 
out of the reach of my creditors ! 

Lady C. And you shall tell me if you have a higher opinion of hunt- 
ing in Cheshire than in Circassia, 

Scrog. Cir-cas-sia! {aside) What the devil does she mean? Sir Cas- 
sia ! oh, it's some swell I haven't been introduced to yet. {aloud, Dun- 
dreary tone) Aw, aw, ya-as, happy to hunt with him, aw, aw ! 

Lady C. (rises; aside). I fear Charles can hardly contain himself. It 
is as much as I can do to keep from laughing, {aloud) While they are 
preparing the tea, dear Mr. Howard, would vou kindly permit me to 
leave you a moment, to go into my dressing-room ? 

Scrog. {not rising). Certainly ! Make yourself at home, my lady ! 

Lady C. Thank you I {goes to l. d.) I shall not be long, {aside) I 
mu>t really «o and have a good laugh ! [Exit, laughing, l. d. 

Scrog. (rise). A charming creature ! {walks about) a charming crea- 
ture! but, decidedly, touched ! (taps his forehead) What did she mean 
by talkins about Circassia and the diplomacies and the post-office. I 
never had anything to do with the post-office, except blow it up for de- 
taining my letters. She must be cranky ! (seated r. c. chair.) 

Enter Sir Charles, d. in p., coming down c. 

Sir C. (aside). I can retain myself no longer! I must put an end to thie 
insult, (aloud) Sir ! 

Scrog. (calmly, half aside). I wonder who this fellow is ? 

Sir C. It is I, sir ! 

Scrog. And may I ask who is " I, sir?" 

Sir C. And may I inquire how it is that I find you here, in my place' 

Scrog. (aside). Oho ! in his place ? This is the last steward, who i 
to be kicked out. 

Sir C. Well, sir? 

Scrog. (rises). Well, sir, I am glad you think it well, sir. 

Sir C. Will you speak ? 

Scrog. I have nothing more to say to you ! 

Sir C. So. sir, you refuse 

Scrog. Don't annoy me ! Go, sir ? 

Sir C. Of all the impudent scoundrels, I ever met, this is the coolest ! 
(L. c.) 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 23 



Enter, with tray spread, Joseph, l., proscenium b., runs against Sib 
Charles, who turns. 

Sir C. What the deuce is this ? 

Joseph. Tea, sir ! 

Scrog. For me, sir ! 

Jos. For he, sir ! 

Sir C. Take it away immediately. 

Jos. I beg your parding, sir ! 

Scrog. {loftily). I beg your pardon — that tea is for me! 

Sir C. {fiercely). Take it away ! {runs Joseph off l , proscenium e.) 

Scrog. {to r. 1 e., warming himself at fire). My dear fellow, you 
should take it more coolly ! you are not the first man that has lost his 
situation —a place because you did not suit. 

Sir C. Not suit! (c.) 

Scrog. I can't help it, if you are to be turned out of this and the 
lady prefers lo have me. It is not my fault if you are no longer fit for 
the place ! 

Sir C. Oh ! this is going too far ! 

Scrog. Women are so fickle. Some of these days, my turn-out may 
come, and I'll have to give way to another. 

Sir C. Sir, do you think I will submit to this \ 

Scrog. My dear fellow, you can't help yourself! 

Sir C. Pooh ! the poor little fellow must be mad ! 

Scrog. {comes to a). The poor little fellow is not mad ! or my lady 
would not have chosen him for your berth ! 

Sir C. For mv — this is disgraceful, sir! 

Scrog. I'm glad you are coming to your senses. I agree with you ! 

Sut C. Come, come. Mr. Howard ! lets come to an understanding. I 
am not your dupe — you may as well lay aside this pretended coarseness 
and vulgar behavior! 

Scrog. Vulgar behavior ! vulgar ! why, sir, it is you, sir, who are 
vulvar, sir ! Lam particularly polite and civil ! 

Sir C. (sarcastically). Well, ray particularly polite and civil friend, it's 
lucky for you I have not my horsewhip here, or I would lay it across 
your civil back ! 

Scrog. Horsewhip ! Well, sir, I am glad you have not got it here. 

Sir C. You are a coward, sir ! {goes up stage.) 

Scrog. A coward ! because I don't say that I like a horsewhip to be 
laid across my back ! Thank you ! 

Sir C. Your purpose in entering this house is known to me. Don't 
you see why you must meet me ? 

Scrog. Poor devil ! With such a temper, I don't wonder that the 
lady would not let you live with her ! 

Sir C. I have been too patient with you. Leave the house ! leave 
the place, sir ! 

Scrog. He wants me to go, when it is he that's to be turned out ! 
what an idea ! 

Sir C. Will you go, sir ? 

Scrog. Certainly not, sir ! I should have been glad to have been shown 
out half an hour ago. but not now, when I have stepped into your shoes. 
(Sir Charles threatens him. He holds chair between them.) 

Sir. C. My shoes ! 

Scrog Be calm, that's a dear fellow ! {dodges behind the furniture. 
Business of Sir Charles chasing Scboggins.) 



24 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Sir C. For the last time, sir, will you go ? or must I throw you out 
of the window ? 

Srog. He, too, wants me to leave by the window ! it seems to be the 
fashion ! 

Sir C. Do you hear me 1 

Scog. I am not deaf. Don't bawl in that absurd manner. (Sir 
Charles rushes at him. and the chase is resumed) Help, murder ! (chairs 
are upset.) 

Enter, l. d., Ladt Clara* 

Lady C. What does all this tumult mean 1 

Sir C. You have come just in time. Perhaps you will be kind enough 
to explain how I find this person, cooly installed here, after an extremely 
sociable conversation with you. 

Lady C. Charles, you have been listening ! (Scroggins wipes his face 
and arranges his coat. ) 

Scrog. Yes, Charles ! it is very shocking to listen at doors ! You 
ought to be ashamed of yourself ! 

Sir C. On your life, sir, not another word. (Scroggins recedes, fright- 
ened.) 

Lady C. This is the new steward ! 

Sir C. Your disgrace, madam, is but too palpable. 

Lady C. What do you mean ? Do you dare to cast insulting suspi- 
cions on me % 

Scrog. I would have him turned ont on the instant ! (Sir Charles 
threatens him. He gets behind r. table.) 

Sir C. After this, we can remain together no more. 

Lady C. Very well, sir ! we will separate. I will go to my mother's. 
(handkerchief in hand.)- 

Sir C. Adieu! \up r.) 

Lady C. Adieu, sir ! {up l.) 

Sir C. Adieu ! (off r. d.) 

Lady C Adieu ! (off l. d.) 

Scrog. (aione). A-do ! a-do! it's a regular do for me! (c.) She is 
going to break up her house because of that scamp ! and I shan't have 
any of the pieces. Well, I'll get out of this place as soon as possible. 
I'll find oneof t the servants, and — and — (feels tn his pockets) promise 
him half-a-crowfi next time I have money, (looks round) Now, where did 
I put that hat of mine 1 (goes up r.) 

Enter, p. d., Sir Charles, with pair of foils. 

Scrog. (comes down front, alarmed). Oh ! 

Sir C. Sir, after what has passed here, you must see that only blood 
can wash out the affront. There are weapons. (Scroggins Jumps) Not 
a word, or I'll slay you like a cur. Put yourself on guard ! 

Scrog Put myself — on— on — guard 1 (puzzled at the foils being offered 
him) Don't put yourself out for me. 

Sir C. Take your weapon and fight. 

Scrog. But, my dear sir, I don't want to fight. 

Sir C. You won't fight 1 Mr. Howard— or whatever your name is— 
take your choice. 

Scrog. But if I fought, it wouldn't be by any choice of mine. 

Sir C. What do you mean by this pretended idiotic conduct? Yor 

• _ » 

•Scroggins. Sib Charles. LadyClaba. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 25 

bare come into this house like a malefactor ! I have every right to kill 
you where you stand. 

Scrog. Then, I won't stand if you have any personal dislike to per- 
sons assuming a standing position. 1 did not enter here like a male- 
factor, 1 came here by the chariot. 

Sib C. By the chariot 1 Oh ! so you confess that you have bribed my 
own servants to introduce you here ? 

Scrog. Bribed! (asid?) When I haven't got ten shillings in the 
world ! Ha ha ! 

Sir C. You are pleased to laugh at me. For the last lime, will you 
defend yourself 1 (forces Scroggins to take foil, which he holds awkwardly) 
Put yourself on guard ! 1 will teach you that no one mocks with impu- 
nity at Sir Charles Seymour, {prepares to fence.) 

Scrog. Sir Charles Seymour ! {change of manner) Are you Sir Charles ? 

Sir C. Ak if you were not aware of that. 

Scrog. 1 thought you were the steward ! I beg your pardon, Sir 
Charles! oh. how will I ever forgive myself for such a mistake. To 
think that 1 might have run a nobleman through, with this stick of iron ! 
Dear me ! {puts foil on l. table) Pve a letter for you, Sir Charles, from 
your friend Lord Sandford, which I was going to bring you to-morrow — 
I mean to-day. 

Sir C. Then your name is not Howard, after all ? 

Scrog. No, nor before all ! It's Scroggins. If your lordship will 
have the kindness to cast your eyes upon this letter (gives letter) it will 
tell you everything, {takes the foils and carefully places them on table vp r.) 

Sir C {opens letter). From Sandford, sure enough, {reads) " Dear 
Seymour, I beg to recommend the bearer to you as I really am over- 
stocked with servants. He is an honest fellow, though the most stupid 
of men." 

Scrog. {comes down). It's quite true, Sir Charles. Lord Sandford 
knows me very well, very well, indeed ! It's a strange chain of events 
that brought me here. If I had not gone to my landlord's ball, I should 
not have met my creditor, and, to avoid him, not have got into your 
carriage, which bore me to your door. 

Sir C. But why have you taken the name of Howard 1 

Scrog. Oh ! Howard ! Ah, that was a fancy of her ladyship's. 
She is full of whims. When 1 first saw her, she took me for a house- 
breaker ; then she took me for her steward, and kept me in chat, and 
ordered a cup of tea for me — which 1 have not got yet. 

Sir C. {aside). I begin to see into it. Clara wanted to have some 
sport with me, and I have fallen into the trap. Ha, ha ! But she must 
not have all the laugh at my expense. Mr. Scroggins, I will attend to 
this. ( puts letter in his pocket.) 

Scrog. Thank you, Sir Charles. I hope to be fortunate in business, I 
certainly am not in love. 1 was engaged to be married to a charming 
young lady, who danced at the Alhambra, but she has jilted me ongoing 
to the Lyceum. I was all right in Leicester Square, but now I am strand- 
ed. Oh ! Euphrasia ! Euphrasia ! 

Sir C. {quickly). What's that name ? 

Scrog. Her name is Euphrasia. But I keep your lordship up. And 
I want my breakfast, {going up.) 

Sir C. And I my revenge, (aside) So this is Euphrasia's young man. 
I owe him some recompense. 

Scrog. {gets his hat). Good-night, Sir Charles. 

Sir C. Good-night You will please call to-morrow. 

Scrog. (laugh*). To-morrow is to-day. Sir Charles, (bows many times) 
Good-Digbt i {Exit, d. in r. 



26 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Sir C. Oh, Clara, what a pretty trick you have played me. - I really 
must be even with you* But how ? I have it. Her windows look out 
upon the garden, (up c.) Hist ! Scroggins ! 

Enter, d. in f., Scroggins. 

You have not gone ? 

Scrog. Not quite, Sir Charles ! 

Sir C. You shall have the situation. 

Scrog. Oh ! thank you, Sir Charles. 

Sir C. But on one condition. 

Scrog, On any number of conditions ! (l. c front.) 

Sir C Where did I put the swords ] oh ! {gets foils from up r., and 
comes down c.) here they are. Scroggins, I want you to take one of 
these, and I the other, when we will go down into the garden and fight. 

Scrog. Eh ? (aside) Is he going to begin it all over again 1 

Sir C. Or, rather, pretend to fight ! 

Scrog. (relieved). Oh ! if it is to be only a pretended fight, had not 
your lordship better let me have both of the swords, and go down into 
the garden. I assure I am splendid at making believe ! 

Sir C. Ah ! that would be belter ! 

Scrog. (takes foils). There'll be some dreadful slaughter among the 
flower-beds, (in the style and tone of a melodramatic ruffian) My lord, rely 
upon your faithful Scroggins. [Exit l. ,proscenium e., flour<shing foils. 

Sir C. (up a). What a sweet joke I shall have to cap my Clara's ! 
Ah ! I hear steps. She is coming this way ! (Sir Charles hides behind 
curtains, d. f.) 

Enter, l. d., Lady Clara. 

Lady C. (nervously coming down to a). What has become of them? 
no one is here ? I am sure I heard lush words between them. Wii at if 
Charles should do some dreadful folly in his fury 1 (looks to l. 1 e.) 

(Voice of Scroggins of l. 1 e., with clashing of foils). Come on and 
die ! ha, ha ! Tak<* that, and that ! 

Lady C Voices in the garden ! (to l 1 e. ) 

( Voice of Scroggins). Come on, or I'll kill you like a dog ! 

Lady C. What do I hear? A duel! for my fault ! Oh, Charles! 
(Sir Charles comes down c, smiling to himself) its all a trick ! Stop, 
stop ! This is dreadful ! his death will be on my head ! (swoons in chair ^ 
l. c.) 

Sir C Clara! dear Clara! (aPends to her.) 

Enter, L , proscenium e., Scroggins, brandishing the foils. 

Scrog. Well, Sir Charles, was that something like a duel 1 (puts foil* 
on r. table.) 

Sir C. Hush ! she has famted. Get me some water. 

, Scrog. Some water ! (bustles about) I don't know the house, where tc 
find it. 

Sir C. Support her ladyship ! I will go get the salts ! [Exit, l. d. 

Lady C. (revives . Charles! (looks round) I thought I heard his voice! 
(repulses Scroggins) Oh! assassin! you have killed my husband, (rises. j 

Enter, l. d., Sir Charles. 

Scrog. I'm in a worse scrape than before. I shall lose my skin if I 
Stay here, I'm ' off 1'' (to d. f.) Oh ! Euphrasia ! 

[Exit, d. f. Lady Clara, rings bell. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 27 

Sir C. (comes down calmly). Pray, what is the meaning of all this ? 

Lady C. Charles! it is you — not even wounded! (falls on Sir 
tuAULES' neck. ) 

Sir C. Forgive me! it was only a mock duel by Scroggins in the 
garden. 

Lady C. What a shock you gave me! But all's forgotten ! 

Enter, d. f., remaining there, two Men Servants with Scroggins between 
them, shivering with fright. 

Servant We caught this man trying to escape by the garden gate. 
Sir C. Release that man 

[Exeunt Servants, d. f., Scroggins comes down c. 

Enter, L. proscenium e., Joseph. 

Jos. (sleepily). Did your ladyship ring 1 

Lady C. Yes. The tea. 

Jos. I beg your parding ! 

Lady C. The tea ! 

Jos. Yes, my lady ! (aside) I wonder how much longer this h'is to go 
h'on 1 [Exit l., proscenium E., proudly. 

Sir C Clara dear, I have confirmed your appointment of Mr. Scrog- 
gins as steward. 

Lady C. Thank you. You owe him as much as I do for his services 
to-n glit. 

Scrog. Since your ladyship and Sir Charles have made it up so hap- 
pily together, and I can be of no further help, perhaps you will permit 
me to retire, (going up c ) 

Lady C. Oh, not till you allow me to offer you the promised tea. 

Sir C. (to Lady C). Mr. Scroggins is recommended to me by Lord 
Sandford, who knows his family well. (l. c.) 

Lady C. Lord Smdtord your patron ? Why, he is an old friend of 
mine, {takes Scroggins familiarly to c*) My dear steward, I assure you 
that if I can assist you in any way I shall be always happy to do so. 

Scrog. (aside). It is best to take the ball on the fly. (shows letter) 
Your ladyship's intimacy with the aristocracy is not to be questioned. 
Perhaps you could assist me to discover the writer of this, (gives letter) 
It was addressed to my intended — a lady of the ballet of the Alhambra, 
who has left that place and me for the Lyceum Theatre and a happier 
rival. I would like to find him out. but I have no clue than this le'.ter 
and the stamp on it. (Sir Charles crosses to take letter, but Lady Clara 
takes it from Scroggins ) 

Lady C. I— I fancy I know the paper! (glances at Sir Charles, who 
stands confused^ behind her) And the writing is — yours ! 

Sir C. (aside). Collared, by Jove ! 

Scrog. (aside). Sir Charles ! Then he's the swell who was so laughed 
at for giving Euphrasia such costlv presents for not even a walk out on 
Sunday in retu n! (reconciled to his fate.) 

Lady C. " Dear and loved one, I will wait at the stage door." Signed, 
u Charles ! " 

* Scroggins. Ladt Claea. Sib Chableb. 

t Sib Chab&es. 

Scroggins. Lady Claba. 

c# 



38 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Sin C. (to Scroggins, aside). You've ruined me by your blundering. 

'aloud, stammering) But my dear, it is — is 

Lady C. Not an old flame ! the date is within a week ! 
Scrog. (aside). My stewardship is going a begging ! 

Enter, l., proscenium e., Joseph, with tray as before. 

Joseph (aside.). They looks as 5 ow they have been 'aving a row ! 

Lady C Joseph ! 

Joseph. My lady? 

Lady C. Take away the tea. 

Joseph (amazed). I beg your ladyship's parding ! 

Lady C. Take away the tea ! 

Scrog. (aside). We have hot water enough ! 

Lady C. And order my carriage ! 

Joseph. Yes, my lady, (aside) I think they've gone mad— the whole lot 
m 'em. [Exit, l., proscenium e. 

Sir C. But, my darling ! 

Lady C. I will no longer be your dupe. 

Scrog. If you will allow me one moment, I think I can explain. 

Lady C. Speak! 

Sir C. (aside). What's the blunderhead going to do now ? 

Scrog. Sir Charles wanted to pay your ladyship in her own coin, and, 
so, while you were in your room just now, he wrote this note and gave it 
to me to let it it fall cunningly into your hands. That's the mystery. 
Ha, ha ! 

Sir C. Ha, ha ! (aside to Scrogkji t 7s) I'll raise your salary, (to Lady 
U.) That's the mystery. Ha, ha ! (Lady Clara embraces him.) 

Scrog. (aside). Oh ! Euphrasia. 

Lady C. Oh ! Charles ! how had you the heart to torture rae. 

Enter , l., proscenium e., Joseph. 

Joseph. My lady, the carriage is at the door. 

Lady C. (smiles). Let the horses be put up again. 

Joseph (amazed). I beg your parding, my lady ? 

Lady C. (distinctly). Let the horses be put up. (to Sir Charles) 
Unless you wish to go back to the ball ! (Sir Charges shakes his finger 
%t her playfully.) 

Scrog. ( faintly). Or to the Lyceum stage-door ! (chokes himself with 
\urpressed laughter. Joseph goes to L. s.) 

Lady C And Joseph ! 

Jos. (turns). My lady ? 

Lady C. You can bring in the tea. 

Jos. (startled). I beg your parding, my lady 1 

Lady C. Bring in the tea ! 

Jos. Yes, my lady, (aside) Oh ! she's off her head ! 

[Exit, l., proscenium e. 

Scrog Well, since I have my place guaranteed, aud it is so late— 
early I should say— you will let me retire. 

Lady C. What! (smtles) before you have had your tea? 

Scrog. Such an honor ! to tea with your ladyship and Sir Charles ! 
oh, what civility ! (puts his hat on r. table.) 

Enter, with tray as before, Joseph, l., proscenium E- 

Lady C. You are just in time. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



29 



Jos. (puts things on l. table, aside). That's a comfort ! (Lady Clara. 
Sir Charles and Scroggins take seats.* 

[Exit Joseph, l., proscenium e. 
Lady C. Mr. Scroggins, shall I sweeten yonr cup of tea ? 
Scrog. Oh ! from your ladyship's hands, {takes cup from Lad's 
Clara) Thank you. (Sir Charles ts given a cup.) 
Lady C. Our tea is served, and all our differences arranged 
But now its fate on you depends, 
A cup of tea is all we've dared to proffer — 
And beg you to accept our humble offer — 
'Tis ever pleasant, fresh, and sweet, and light. 
You're prayed to come and take it, every night I 

(All lift cups to irink.) 

CURTAIN. 



* Scroggins. 

r. c. chair. 



Sir Charles. 

Lady Clara.* Z2 
table. 



EXPLANATION OF THE STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

The Actor is supposed to face the Audience. 



SCENE. 



B.3z. 
8.13. ' 

/ 



\ 



\ 



L, 3 8. 
L.23. 

L.ia 



\ 



3. 0. O. t. O. L. 

AUDIENCE. 



L. Left. 

I* O. Left Centre. 

L.1K. Left First Entrance. 

L2s. Left Second Entrance. 

L.3x. Left Third Entrance. 

L. u. E. Left Upper Entrance 

(wherever this Scene may be.) 

D. l>. C. Door Left Centre, 



c. Centre. 

B. Eight. 

r. 1 e. Right First Entrance. 

r. 2 e. Right Second Entrance. 

r. 3 e. Right Third Entrance. 

B. 17. E. Right Upper Entrance, 

B. b. c. Door Bight Centre. 



30 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Vaudeville Theatre, Princess* TJteatre, 

Paris, Sept. 28 58GO. London, Feb. 11, 1869 

Sir Charles Seymour (Light Comedy). . . .M. Nf.rtann. Mr. Wm. Rignold. 

Scroggins (Low Comedy) M. St. Germain. Mr. D. Murray. 

Joseph (2d Low Comedy or Utility). ....M Hamburger. Mr. R. Cathcart. 

Lady Clara Seymour (Comedy Lead; . . . .Mdme. D. Marquet. Mdlle. Beatrice. 



TIME OF PLAYING-THIRTY MINUTES. 



SCENERY. 

Drawing room, handsome, in 4th grooves. 



| Door. | 



Door. 



Fireplace. 



Cabinet. 



*o* 



Cabinet 



Table and Chairs. 



Door. 



Door. 



Carpet down ; curtain to v. in f. ; ornaments on mantel ; rug to hearth, b. k. 



COSTUMES (of the present day). 

Sib Charles Seymour.— Evening dress, overcoat. 
Scroggins. — Extravagant ball dress. 
Joseph - Handsome livery, powdered wig. 
Lady Clara.— Ball dress. 



PROPERTIES. 

Ornaments, clock, statuettes, vases tor mantel-piece, and tables ; books, newspa- 
pers on tables ; handbell l. table ; lamps on tables it. and l. ; letter for Scroggine; 
tray with wine, cups ; pair of foils ; letter in an envelops. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 31 



A CUP OF TEA. 

SYNOPSIS. 

The lighted lamps show the drawing-room in which Joseph is fast asleep. He 
wakes, and, yawning, walks off to hed, as Scroggins sneakingly enters, and in the 
course of a soliloquy he makes known the fact that he is pursued by importunate 
creditors, and that he is equally unfortunate in love affairs. He has found a note 
addressed to his Euphrasia, which reads, " Dear and loved one : I will wait at the 
stage door. Charles.'' Hoping to find his rival by the initials on the stamp, he 
leaves the room, which he had got into by a strange chance. Lady Clara and Sir 
Charles enter. A brisk dialogue follows. The lady blames the gentleman for 
keeping in his employ a German coachman who can't understand a word of Eng- 
lish ; while he retaliates by saying that she insists upon retaining old Peters who 
is so deaf and stupid that " he declared that we had come home in the carriage an 
hour ago.'' Sir Charles tells his wife that he is about to return to the ball. She 
tells him that he goes in order to dance with Lady Castlevaine. He laughs at her 
foolish jealousy, and says that he would not suspect her if he saw a man kneeling 
at her feet—" he would think it was her shoemaker." He proceeds to tell her that 
he overheard at the ball that Mr. Howard, a terrible lady-killer, was very attentive 
to her ; but she only laughed at it. Then he goes off after gallantly kissing her. 
The lady is quite vexed to hear him say that nothing will make him jealous of her. 
Then she wonders whether he has really gone to the ball, as she had not heard him 
go out. Scroggins enters cautiously, whispering that he can't find his way out. 
The lady turns and faces him— at first she is terribly alarmed, and bids him take 
her jewelry, but begs him to spare her ! Scroggins is quite as much alarmed as 
the lady ; but proceeds to explain that to avoid arrest he had jumped into a coach, 
which instantly drove off, in spite of his frantic screams of "Whoa I" He adds 
that he thinks that the driver was a " Rushin." The lady thinks of the German 
coachman, understands the situation, and bursts out laughing. Then she questions 
Scroggins, and is about to show him out, when the idea strikes her that she will 
play him off as Howard upon her husband, who has never seen the lady-killer. 
Finding that Scroggins is in humble circumstances, she offers him a butler's situ- 
ation, but tells him that he must change his name to " Howard." Scroggins cheer- 
fully acquiesces. Lady Seymour all this time supposes that her husband is with- 
in call of her voice. She then rings for Joseph, and orders tea. Scroggins is in 
trembling ecstacy at the idea taking a cup of tea with the lady. They sit at table, 
and the lady catches a glimpse of Sir Charles, who, however, conceals himself 
when he sees Scroggins. The lady goes on addressing " Howard," who tries to 
answer in a cool, off-hand style, while Sir Charles silently listens. "Ah," the 
lady observes, ' ' we shall have plenty of time to talk matters over, for we shall see 
each other often." At this Sir C. thrusts his face, inflamed with passion, between 
the curtains. The lady asks Scroggins (addressing him as " Mr. Howard ") to ex- 
cuse her for a minute, adding, in an aside, " I must really go and have a good 
laugh." Scroggins is delighted, but comes to the conclusion that he thinks she 
is "cranky." Sir Charles, unable to repress his passion, rushes at Scroggins, 
asking who he is, and what business he has there. The former thinks that Sir 
Charles is the discarded butler. The gentleman becomes furious, and is chasing 
Scroggins round the room, when Lady Clara enters. A rattling bit of comedy 
ensues ; Sir Charles wants to fight a duel with Scroggins, who respectfully de- 
clines, while the lady is in trouble and tears. After a while a truce occurs, and an 
explanation follows. All is serene, when Scroggins thinks it a favorable opportu- 
nity to show the crest on the letter to Euphrasia. Again Scroggins has unchained 
the storm by his stupidity. Lady Clara knows the crest as her husband's ; 
snatches the writing, and recognizes her husband's hand. At last everything is 
explained to everybody's satisfaction, and Scpoggins site down with his noble 
friends to a quiet " Cup of Tea." 



OUR DOMESTICS. 



ACT I. 

SCENE.— A kitchen. A grate, l., a door r., another door leading to servants' 
entrance. L. 2 E , dresser and filter, R., table, c , chairs, §c. Jdlia and 
Joseph discovered seated at table — Joseph drinking coffee — Julia put- 
ting accounts down in book — milk jug on table. 

Joseph (r., of table). I don't want to flatter you, Julia, but you make 
capital coffee. 

Jdlia. Master don't think so. 

Jos. Bah ' masters, it ain't no use trying to please them : I've put 
that down, {drinks coffee, and puts in mo> e milk.) 

Jul. (writing) Two bundles sparrow-grass— seventeen-pence. (reflect- 
ing) Seventeen-pence — one and ten. 

Jos. Why Julia, you're a reg'lar Babbage, beat the calculating machine 
altogether. 

Jul. Yes, Joseph, that's the advantage of a good education, (writing') 
Cucumber. How do you spell cucumber, with a c or a k ? 

Jos. Stop, let me see — why with a q — qu-qu-qum-kumber — ququmber 
— you can tell that by the sound. 

Jol. Ah, to be sue. (bell rings violently, l.) That's for the coffee; novr 
make haste ; when you have finished, master can have his. 

Jos. (looking into milk-pot). Julia. 

Jul. What! 

Jos. The milk's nearly finished. 

Jul. (rising). That's nothing, soon milk the cow. (goes to filter, putt 
water in milk.) 

Jos. No fear of that animal having the rinderpest. 

Jul. (giving milk-jug). There, now, take it up afore the creamy appear- 
ance goes off. (bell heard, L.) 

Jos. Wnat again ! what's the old beast at 1 (locking into cup) There's 
a good deal of the Chalk Farm about this, (bell heard.) [Exit, r. 

Jul. (writing) Drat that bell , it upsets my reck'ning. (adding up) 
Nine and seven, eighteen and five — twenty-six. (knock heard) I expect 
that's Francis. Come in, (adding) and cany 

Francis (having entered l. 2 e., kisses her) Only one — allow me (pre- 
sents her with rose.) 

Jul. You're always gallant, Mr. Francis. 

Fran. It's mixing with the aristocracy that does it. But, Julia, it's 
my particular nisht out —the fact of the matter is, my master's dining 
with some friends, and I thouaht you d like to go to the ball nt Cremorne 
— this style of thing, fal ral, de lal ra. (dances round stage with Julia— 
stops) You must come. 

Jul. I'd go anywhere for a danc\ (with hesitation) but — but 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 33 

Fran. You don't mean to say old Crusty 's gone and done anything 
mean. 

Jul. I do, he's asked company to dinner. 

Fran. Shabby old blackguard. Well, 1 call that ungentlemanly con- 
duct, (sits at table) Julia, go in tor an excuse. 

Jul. Yes, I mean to talk to missus, {puts ink in drawer) And my poor 
aunt so ill ! 

Fran. Is she i 

Jul. Not a bit except when I want her to be — didn't I go to Brompton 
last week on the strength of bronchitis, and hadn't she got scarletina 
when I was out with my cousin in the Guards. 

Fran. Capital, it does you credit 

Enter Joseph, l., with a coat and clothes brush. 

Jos. Here, I can't stand this much longer — I'd as soon be in Mr. 
Womb well's menagerie. 

Fran Hullo! Joseph? 

Jos. Morning, (brushes clothes.) 

Jul. What's the matter with you? 

Jos. Matter with master you mean ! he worrits my life out with his 
clothes. 

Fran. Indeed. 

Jos. First, 1 brush 'em too much, then too little ; then I brush 'em the 
wrong wuy, then the brush is too hard, then it's too soft, then the dust 
comes out and the hairs stay in, the hairs come out and the dust stays in, 
there ain't no pleasing him. D — n the clothes, (shies clothes down and 
brush — knock heard, l,) Come in. 

Enter Sarah, with basket, l. 

Fran, (rising). Ah, Sarah! 

Jos. (aside to Francis, admiring Sarah). Ain't she a reg'lar beauty, 
she's admiratious. 

Jul. What can I do for you, Sarah dear ? 

Sarah. I've forgotten the potatoes, would you mind lending me a 
few? 

Jul. As many as you like. 

Jos. (encouraged by Francis). Give me your basket. Sarah, (takes it) 
I'll fill it for you. (aside) I wish 1 was a potatoe, I'd never take my 
eyes off her, she's admiratious. (goes to corner, l., and puts in potatoes from 
a bag— then hands the basket back timidly.) 

Sarah. Tnank you, Mr. Joseph. 

Jos. (lost in contemplation — takes Francis aside). Ain't she enough to 
make a fellow distractious ? 

Fran, (aside). Why don't you tell her so. (bell heard.) 

Sarah. Some one is ringing, I think. 

Jos. (calmly). Never mind, it's only master waiting for his coat. 

Fran, (to Joseph). Say something to her — don't be a fool. 

Jos. I feel timid like ; I know it all conies of being called Joseph. 

Fran, (calling) Sarah ! (crosses to p.. c ) my friend Joseph is dyin. 
to say something to you. (he shoves Joseph tow <rds Sarah — they retire up 
— Francis crosses to Julia) Now, Julia, we must arrange for this even- 
ing. Ah, excellent ! I'll ask Joseph and Sarah to come with us. (calls) 
Joseph ! 

Jos. (k. c , coming down, imitates kissing). It's molasses. 



34 AMATEUR AKD PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Fran. (l.). Julia and myself have made up our minds to go to a ball this 
pvenmg ; you and Sarah join us. 

Jos. But I don't know whether master will let me go. 

Jul. (l ). Say your uncle's worse. 

Fran. Nonsense ! won t let you go 1 You must go, we sltail be all 
right for a quardrille if you bring Saiah ! (dances) Fal ral de ral. (beU 
Yung violently.) 

Sarah. They'll break that bell directly. 

Jos. There's my tormentor again. 

Jul. (to Sarah). It's agreed, then, for this everiing, say ten o'clock. 

Sarah. I've no objection — I know I can get leave. 

Crusty (outside, r., calling). Joseph, Joseph ! 

Sarah. Here's somebody coming, good-by. [Exit, l. 

Enter Crusty, r., in dressing gown, carries two bell-pulls, which he hides be- 
hind his back— furiously. 

Crusty. Holloa ! more slamming of doors. This place is like a public 
liouse. I won't have it, I say. (Joseph picks up coat and brush and com- 
tiences brushing.) 

Jul. It's only the milk, sir. 

Crus. Milk, indeed. I don't know who gets that luxury then, I'm 
rure we don t. (to Joseph) And my coat, sir ; am I to wait all day for it? 

Jos. It's the fluff, sir. 

Crus. Not a word, sir ! (seeing Francis) Who's this man 1 

Jul Servant from number twenty-two; he's brought a message from 
Jny poor aunt. 

Crus. (crosses to r. a). Your kitchen always has a crowd in it ; one 
ivould think this was the Crusty arms instead of a private gentleman's 
private kitchen. 

Fran, (l., aside). Old brute. 

Crus. (to Joseph). And why the devil didn't you come when I rung. 

Jos. (r., innocently). Did master ring 1 I didn't hear the bell. 

Jul. Nor I. 

Fran. I'm sure I didn't. 

Crus. Now, 'pon my life, this is too bad. Did I ring— look here, (pro- 
duces bell-pulls, to Joseph) I shall deduct this from your wages, I'll have 
the pull of you, sir. 

Jos. But, sir 

Crus. No explanation, (to Julia) Where's the hot water ? 

Jul. Hot water, sir 1 (takes jug of hot water from dresser.) 

Crus. (takes it, burns fingers) Oh, oh ! why the deuce didn't you say 
It was hot. (Joseph laughs, Crusty turns and sees him) If I thought you 
were snivelling at me, I'd— Make haste with that coat, you rascal. 
(going) "What a house, what a house 1 [Exit, r., growling, 

Jos. Old gorilla, (to Francis) What do you think of that? 

Fran. Is lie often given to that sort of thing 1 

Jos. That's his little game all day, seven times a week. 

Fran. Because you don't manage h ; m properly. You should see the 
splendid training I've got my master in ; we reverse the order of things 
in my establishment — my bootmaker is good enough to serve him, my 
tailor condescends to cut for him, my tobacconist kindly allows him an 
occasional weed from my private box, in fact I don't permit him to do 
anything without consulting me. 

Jos. (amazed). Wonderful, wonderful — I'm lost in admiration when I 
listens to you. Go on. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOE THEATRICALS. 35 

Fran. T'll put you up to a dodse, my boy. (slowly) Now mark me: 
our masters and missuses are exactly what we make them. 

Jos How } 

Fran. Ail we've to do is to profit by their weaknesses and vices. 

Jos. And when they haven't any vice 7 

Fran, {deliberately). Then you must find '«jm one. 

Jos Let me shake you my the hand, (shakes hands — reflecting) What 
vice cm I find for master ? What vice can I find for master! 

Caus. [outside, r.— calling). Joseph ! Joseph ! 

Jos HVs at it again. 

Jul ( from stove, where she has been occupied during this conversation). 
Take him his clothes, 'he'll be getting rheumatism, and then we shall 
have to nur^e him — make haste. 

Jos. {taking clothes— reflecting as he goes, r,). What vice can I find for 
master ? [Exit, r. 

Jul (coming to Francis): Since your master is going out, why not 
dine with us I 

Fran With pleasure. 

Jul. Whit would you like for dinner? 

Fran. Aha ! I'm easily satisfied — soup, fried sole, roast mutton, roast 
veal, raiccaroni cheese. 

Jul. (bowing). The orders of his lordship shall be attended to. 

Fran (grandly). Julia, I shall pay you your wages at ouce. (kisses 
her.) 

Enter Caroline, r., with book, as Francis goes out, l. — Julia attends to 

cooking. 

Caroline. Julia! 

Jul. Yes, miss. 

Car. That servant kissed you ; is he your lover ? 

Jul. At present, miss 

Car. (rominticuiy). Love, the brightest, purest joy — the celebrated 
cord upon which we climb to the spheres above; the magic link that 
binds two souls, the harmony of life — of all. Better to have loved and 
lost, than never loved at all. (attitude.) 

Jul. (aide). What s she driving at now? (takes off apron.) 

Car. If you are going out, change this book, and b-ing me the " En- 
chanted Lover, or, a Feather from Cupid's Wing ; " Mr. Quaver recom- 
mends it as b^in : elevating and instructive 

Jul. What, Mr. Quiver, the little music-master"? 

Car. Don't you think him charming ? 

Jul. I think he'd be considerably b tter if he'd a suit of decent 
clothes. He looks as if fed on music paper, and the black dots had dis- 
agree I with him. 

Car Hs's a noble nature that shook the drowsy poppy from my eyes 
an I awakened me to existence; when his voice breathes out the song 
of lov3, he carries me away ! 

Jul. (aside). I expect he will soon. 

Car Yes, I hear angels singing to harps— the midnight melody of 
mournful love, (attitude.) 

Jul. Well, I shouldn't have thought it. Wonderful ! Here comes your 
mamma. 

Car. Pray hide the book. (Julia puts it in basket.) 

Enter Mrs. Crusty, r., in bonnet, she is putting on her gloves.. 

Mrs. C. Caroliue, I won't have you here ; the kitchen is no place for a 
young lady — go ! (Caroline exits b.) 



36 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Jul. (aside). Missus looks awful cross. 

Mrs. C. Julia, I'm going out. 

Jul. So am I, mum, going to market, and as we've company, whj 
would you wish ordered for dinner ? 

Mrs. C. Order a salmon from Mr. Scale. 

Jul. Salmon ! impossible, ma'am — out of season — now some nice 
soles, ma'am — get them easily. 

Mrs. C. Well, be it so then. 

Jul. And for the joint? 

Mrs. C. We had turkey yesterday — get a sirloin of beef. 

Jul. (aside). Francis particularly said mutton, (aloud) As for beef, 
ma'am, there wasn't a piece in the market yesterday, and it will be worse 
to-day, tough as a camel and dry as a dromedary. Now if it was mut- 
ton, its just in its prime. 

Mrs. C. We are always having mutton. 

Jul. Well, ma am, I couldn't take the responsibility of beef — nice joint 
of mutton roasted, looks very stylish. 

Mrs. C. It must be mutton, then, if you can't get beef. 

Jul. Very good, I suppose you'll have some maccaroni cheese to foU 
low? 

Mrs. C. You know your master dislikes it. 

Jul. Very true, ma'am ; but the guest — the gentleman as is coming. 

Mrs. C. You always find some obstacle — let it be maccaroni then. 
(going to l.) 

Jul. (topping her). Can 1 say a word, ma'am ? 

Mrs. C. What is it now? 

Jul. My poor aunt, (whines) She's very bad again. 

Mrs. C. Your aunt again. 

Jul. Yes, ma'am, awful bad; I thought missus would let me run ouf 
to see her about ten o'clock. 

Mrs. C. Girl ! are you mad ? A day when we have company — I 
shouldn't think of such a thing. 

Jul. (aside). It's no use asking her while she is in this humor, (sobs) 
My poor aunt, hi ! hi ! hi ! [Exit l., with basket. 

Mrs. C. Oh dear, what am I to do? I can never ask Mr. Crusty for 
more money, and that wretched jeweller threatens to present his bill to 
my husband — I wouldn't have him know of my extravagance for worlds. 
It was only last month he gave me a check for one hundred and fifty 
pounds ; dear, dear, this concealment, is cruel. I must call on Mrs. 
Croesus at once. A hundred pounds to her is a mere bagatelle, she surely 
won't refuse an old friend — this suspense is killing me. 

Enter Crusty, r., in great rage. 

Crus. Where the devil is that fellow Joseph ? (seeing Mrs. Crustt' 
Ah, Harriet, going out? 

Mrs. C. For a few minutes. 

Crus. By the way, Harriet, did you mention to Caroline, Meek wa* 
coming here to dinner, and I hope you've given her instructions not tc 
make herself ridiculous by striking somp absurd attitude, (imitates her) 
Where the deuce she got her romance from I don't know, there's nothinf 
of that sort about me ; of course you are aware Meek's fortune is gigan 
tic ? 

Mrs. C. I know. 

Crus There doesn't seem any vice about him. Bevan assured me It 
is most correct, and I've no doubt with a little judicious managemec* 
— Eh, my dear, you seem quite indifferent I declare. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOE THEATRICALS. 31 

Mrs. C. No, dear, I'm fatigued. 

Crus. I don't wonder at it, late hours — there, don't let me detain you 

Mrs. C. (aside). My poor heart. [Exit, £• 

Enter Joseph, r. 

Jos. (aside). What vice can I find for master 1 

Crus. Joseph ! 

Jos. Sir 1 

Crus. Where the deuce have you been ? Half my time is occupied * 
chasing you about the premises. 

Jos. The whole of it, I think. 

Crus. Take off your apron, run out and get me a pair of kid gloves, 
camel color. 

Jos. Your usual color 1 

Crus. What tiie devil do you mean by my usual color? Get me camel 
color. 

Jos. The color you wear 1 

Crus. The color I was — oh, I see— you know where I purchase them, 
Joseph ] 

Jos. At the plove and perfume shop, Adonis Arcade. 

Crus. (with enthusiasm). Just so, where the pretty dark girl is 

Jos. {eagerly). Large black eyes, and such a figure, (with gusto) Mag- 
nificent ! distractious ! 

Crus. Just so, raven locks, pearly teeth, (extravagant gesture of ad- 
miration.) 

Jos. Excuse me, sir, repeating it, she is an out-and-out young woman. 

Crus. She is, Joseph ! (aside) Confound it, this fellow has some taste. 

Jos- (hesitatingly). She's always asking after master. 

Crus. Ah, indeed ! 

Jos. Yes, sir ; no holding that young woman when she talks about 
your figure and appearance. 

Crus. Yes, I flatter myself, (stops) But. Joseph, you never mentioned 
this before. 

Jos. My memory ain't naturally good, and then, sir, you worrits me 
about them clothes till I w.sh I was dead, I do. 

Crus. Singular! What did she say about me, Joseph, eh 1 

Jos (aside). He's a nibbling ! (aloud) I shouldn't like to tell you all, 
sir, but she said as you was the auiiablei-t and handsomest gent out. 

Crus. (excited). And what did you say, Joseph? (aside) Egad, it's 
quite exciting. 

Jos. Of course T hid a good deal, 'cause you know you ain't alway; 
hamiable, a singing out after me all day, like you noes — I wish I # was S 
dos, sometimes I do. 

Crus. Well, it's your fault, you seem to take a fiendish delight in ex 
citing my naturally calm disposition. 

Jos. You worrits me always, sir ; it's always " Joseph here," " JosepL 
there." ce I wished I was a dromedary, I did 

Crus. Never mind being ambitious — tell me what she said about my 
igure. 

Jos. (aside). He's nibbling again. Well, sir (stops.) 

Crus. Go on ! 

Jos. It's just tills, the young woman (stops.) 

Crus (clutching him excitedly). Make haste. 

Jos. (aside). He's res'lar on th~ hook this time, (aloud) 'Tain't no Mas 
ieceiving you : she's perspiring of infection for yon — I've said it now. 

Crus. Expiring for me ! (flattered) Nonsense, at my age too. 



IP A)]V lUK AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Joa. Thv ^ t nothing, when you' fa buckled up, and when master 
'*s hh <*I<ws well brushed like I brush 'em, nobody would take you for 
^*>re *.br^\ {reflecting) fifty. 

I'ata. {quickly). I ain't forty-five yet ! 

?jZ. ?ve uone it now. 

Ciit-s. Everybody knows that — delightful creature! (Jlattered) What 
••thing it is to be young and good-looking. 

Jos. (going). Can I say a word for you, master? 

Crus. No, no, decidedly not. On reflection I'll go myself. Come and 
assist me to put on my coat. [Exit, b. 

Jos. (following). I think I'm all right for my leave to-night. 

Enter Julia, l., with basket containing vegetables, §c. 

Jul. I've told Mr. Knuckles to send home three legs of mutton, so we 
shan't run short in the kitchen {puts down basket.) 

Enter Caroline, r. 

Car. Oh, Julia, Where's my novel ? 

Jul. You'll find it between the bullock's heart and the brocoli (points 
to basket — takes off bonnet and shawl.) 

Car. Poetry stifled by prose ! 

Jul. I paid ten shillings subscription, miss. 

Car. I'm sorry for that. I dare not ask mamma for money just now. 
I know she is fearfully annoyed about some money she already owes — I 
think I heard her say it was fifty pounds. 

Jul. Fifty pounds, (aside) It's as well to know that. 

Car. Hush, she is coming. [Exit, B. 

Enter Mrs. Crusty, l. Appears much embarrassed. 

Mrs. C. Refused J What shall I do ] My head is splitting. 

Jul. (approaching) Excuse me, ma'am, I was going to ask your advice. 
(aside) This will end in a blow up, I see. 

Mrs. C. My advice ! 

Jul. Well, perhaps I'd better put it off till another time, when missus 
ain't so worried. 

Mrs- C. What is it 1 Let me know at once. 

Jul. If you please, I was going to say (stops) There, never mind 

troubling you now. 

Mrs. C. Why this hesitation ? Let me know at once. 

Jul. Well, ma'am, I've got a few savings 

Mrs C. (aside). Fortunate girl, (aloud) You have a few savings 1 

Jdl. A few pounds left by my mother, and a few earnings since I've 
been out to service, and I thought perhaps you'd be kind enough to 
take charge of them and put them in the Stocks, or some place as will 
hold them safe, as I don't like putting my money in banks, which was 
the ruin of my aunt Matilda. She put all her money in a bank as was so 
full that it bust. 

Mrs. C. Julia, how much have you managed to save ? 

Jul. 'Taint very much, ma'am, only fifty pounds, (aside) I'll take 
good care to have an acknowledgment, though. 

Mrs. C. (hastily).) Fifty pounds ! (aside) The very sum refused me 
by Mrs Croesus. 

Jul. You would be doing me a kindness to take charge of it, ma'am* 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. Z9 

Mrs. C. (aside). What J borrow money of my servant— humiliation 
indeed. 

Jul. I hope you won't refuse me, ma'am ; I know I don't deserve this 
kindness. 

Mrs. C. {quickly). Yes, give me the money. 

Jul. I'm very much obliged, I'm sure. I'll run to my room and fetch 
it. 

Mrs. C. I shall reflect, Julia, and if I can't find a suitable investment, 
I shall return this money in a few days. 

Jul. Thank >ou. 

Mrs. C. (aside). Saved! 

Jul. (aside). It strikes me I shall go to the ball this evening, (returns 
to stove.) 

Enter Crusty, l., in fashionable walking suit, red necktie. 

Crusty. Ah, my dear, I was looking for you before I went out. 

[Exit Julia, r. 2 e. 
Mrs. C One would imagine you were bound on a captivating expeu- 
diuon had you been a few years younger. 

Crus. {aside). What the deuce does she mean by a few years younger 1 

Enter Joseph, r. 

Jos. Mr. Quaver, the music-master. 

Crus. Go and see him Harriet. I don't admire his manner towards 
Caroline — somebody should be in the room with her. 

Mrs. C Yes, I've noticed it. I'll see him at once, (aside) His bill must 
be settled first. 

Julia enters, r., with purse. 

Jul. Here's the money ma'am. Thank you, I am so much obliged. 

[Mrs. Crusty exits, b. 
Crus. (to Joseph). Is my cravat all right ? 
Jos. Spiendid ! You look like a robin red-breast. 
Crus. Now then on the wings of love, love, love, (skips off, r.) 
Jos. (imitating him). He's swallowed hook and all, all, all ! (dances off, 
B.) 

Enter Sarah, l., followed by Francis. 

Fran. Well, Julia, is it all right? 

Jul. I think my leave is certain. 

Jos. (returns, r., rubbing his howls'). I shall have mine. 

Fran. Nonsense, you don't mean to say the governor has given in* 

Jos. (crosses to a). No, but I've found his vice. 

Jul. HN vice 1 

Fran. ) 

Sarah > (surround him — eagerly). Well, what is it? 

Jul. ) 

Jfos. Camel-colored gloves, (they all laugh at A»m.) 



CUBTAIV. 



40 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I — Lining-room in Mr. Crusty's. Boor, c, door, l. 1 b ., hading 
into Mr. Crdsty's room, door, l. 2 e , leading into Mks. Crudity's room 
— piano, R. 1 E., sideboard, L., against flat — chandelier, a, chairs, $c, look- 
ing-glass over piano. Mr. Quaver discovered on fits knees to Miss Car- 
oline — he is very seedily dressed, and wears a pair of black Lule-thrsad 
glovet. 

Qu\. Caroline, let me hear you say I may hope. 
Car. {romantically). Yes. 

" Hope on ; the brightest flowers may decay, 
But Love bids you hope on, I say." 

Mrs. C. {speaks outside.) 

Car. Gracious, I hear mamma's voice, quick ! fly ! {drags him up~) Ton 
can come back later, with some dance music for this evening. Go. {he 
goes off c. to l. , as Caroline resumes he/place at piano and commences play- 
%ng.) 

Enter Mrs. Crusty, l. 2 e. 

Mrs. C. Caroline. 

Car. Mamma, {turns and leaves off playing.) 

Mrs, C. {aside). How excited she appears, {aloud) Was that Mr. Qua- 
ver who just left ? 

Car. Yes, mamma. 

Mrs. C. {aside). I shall certainly write him a note to say his services 
can be dispensed with, {aloud) My dear Caroline, I have a communica- 
tion of some importance to make to you directly — await me in your 
room. 

Car. But what means this mystery 1 

Mrs. C. Later, my dear child, you shall know all, but rest assured your 
happiness is my chiefest care. Now go. {leading her towards door, 1 2 b.) 

Car {going). To be sacrificed perhaps. Oh, Edgar ! Edgar I 

Mrs. C. {rings btll and calls) . Julia! Julia 1 

Enter Julia, c. from r. 

Jul. Yes, mum. 

Mrs C How dare yon leave Miss Caroline alone at her music lesson, 
when I gave you particu'ar instructions to be present ? Remember I 
won't t-lerate it. and unless I see a decided improvement, 1 

Jul. Oh. that's it, is it ? There then 1 somebody else can cook the 
dinner, {takes off apron and shies it down.) 

Mrs. C. Wh t, leave me on the very day Mr. Meek is coming to din- 
ner. One mustn't say a word to you or you fly into a pet I'm sure 
I didn't intend to hurt yon r feelings, {picks up/pron) Now, no nonsense, 
Julia {she places apron on .Iulia) 

Jul. {aside). I'm sure of my leave to-night, {takes strings of apr$n 
Mrs. Crusty has possed round and ties them ) 

Mrs. C I suppose you've been worried with the cooking. 

Jul. Yes, and my poor aunt's so ill. I can scarcely manage the cook- 
in?, thinking about it 

Mrs. C. {aside). She mustn't spoil the dinner upon which perhaps the 
happiness of Caroline depends, {aioud) Juiia, when the work is well 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 41 

Jul. If you'd allow me to run out about ten o'clock, ma'am, (sobs) 
Hi ! hi ! hi ! poor aunt. 

Mas C There, don't cry. you may go, but you must say nothing 
about it to your master, (aside) Alter all, Joseph will be here. 

Jul. I'm very mucii obliged, ina'am. (aside) I knew I should manage 
it. [Exit, c. to k. 

Enter Crusty, c from l. 

Crus. Come back ray dear, you see 

Mrs. C. Why, Crusty, you have the air of a conqueror. 

Crus. (aside). She doesn't know how near the truth she is. (aloud) 
Can't account for it, ray dear ; the contemplation of Caroline's prospect 
perhaps. Bv the way, did you mention t» her that Mr. Meek 

Mrs. C. Yes, I hinted that 

Crus. Why don't you tell the child plainly, without mincing the mat- 
ter ? 

Mrs. C- I'll speak to her at once. [Exit into room i., 2 e. 

Enter Joseph, c. from l., with tray, on which are tumblers, napkins, and 
glasses — comes to Crusty. 

Jos. Seen her, sir ? 

Crus. Hush! (looks to see that Mrs. Crusty is gone.) 

Jos. (whispering). How is she 1 ( places tray on side-board.) 

Crus. Well, Joseph, I've spen her — spoken to her— a perfect divinity! 

Jos She is. (aside) He's been and gorged hisself. 

Crus. Confound it, there was a host «>f customers in the shop; she 
hadn't an opportunity of saying much, but sh • looked, ah, she looked 

Jos. My hi, you don't say so. It's your appparance what's done it. 

Crus. No doubt about it, Joseph ; I've made some investments, in 
fact I bought a lot of things I didn't want, (takes parcels from pocket) 
Pomatum, cosmetique, that's eye-wash, wrinkle-water, cravats, toilet 
vinegar, gloves, perfume, handkerchiefs — total, four pounds ten shillings. 

Jos Why, she couldn't help admiring on you. 

Crus. Yes, I think I did the correct thing ; now if I could only man- 
age to say a word to her this evening, but this confounded dinner. 

Jos. That ain't nothing, you could slip out about ten o'clock, nobody 
would ever miss you, then don't you see, you'd be sure to find her done. 

Crus. Eh ! what ? let rae think, (aside) Egad, I might manage it. 

Jos. (boldly). Then master won't want me here. 

Crus What— not want you 1 

Jos. Well, sir, as you was going out, I thought 1 might be able to get 
awa\ for an hour or two. 

Crus What for, pray? 

Jos. Why, I've promised to meet the young woman I keeps company 
with she's a lady's maid. 

Crus. Indeed ! 

Jos. You see, 'cause I'm a serrant that ain't no reason I shouldn't 
have an attachment, just a little one, you kuow. Sir, bless you, taint 
nothing like yours, of course. 

Crus. (aside). He's making capital out of me; I suppose I must let 
him go. (aloud) Well, Joseph, on condition you say nothing about it, I 
consent to your leaving at ten. (aside) After all, Julia can "bring up the 
refreshments, (gives him the parcels) Put these in my room, and, Joseph, 
there won't be any necessity to call Mrs. Crusty's attention to them. 

Jos. Of course not. Mum's the word; heverythink between you and 
me, is between US two. {pokes him in ribs.) 

[Exit Joseph, a, 1 b., carrying pareels. 



42 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Crus. I think I've made an ass of myself— taking that fellow into my 
confidence. Curse him, he's abusing it already. 

Enter Caroline, from room l. 2 e., crying. 

Car. He ! he ! he ! 

Crus. What's the matter with you ? 

Car. The silken skeins of sacred love are to be snapped; oh dear, my 
heart will break, he ! he! he ! (sobs.) 

Enter Julia, c. from r. 

Jul. (comes down l.). What, crying Miss Caroline ? 

Car. (a). Yes, the tears of a blighted maiden. Oh, Julia, they're go- 
ing to marry me, he ! he! he ! to a man I don't know — a Mr. Meek, he ! 
he ! he ! These are the bub-bub-blesof a bur-bur-bursting heart, he ! he 1 

Jul. (aside). Mr. Meek, why that's Francis's master. 

Crus. (r.). Now did anybody ever see such a little idiot. 

Car. I'll never marry Mr. Sneak, never, (attitude.) 

Jul. And quite right too. 

Crus. (to Julia). Nobody appealed to you, young woman, (to Caro- 
line) As for you, I'm ashamed of you ; you'll love him by-and-by. 

Car. Never! Love is the union of two sympathizing souls, and these 
two souls, like twin harps, must give out the same sound, or Love's har- 
mony is destroyed, blasted, lost, (attitude.) 

Crus. Now did anybody ever hear such rubbish 1 Wli y, Love is the 
union of two fortunes, and unless they give out a good metallic sound, 
there's no harmony, that's what you mean ; as for loving him, look at 
me, your mother never loved me when she married me. 1 don't know 
whether she didn't even think 1 was repulsive. 

Jul. (at sid-board). That's very likely. 

Crus. I wasn't addressing you, young woman, (to Caroline) And I 
maintain, without snony there's no happiness. Nothing like a metallic 
alliance for comfort and contentment. 

Jul. Pretty principles indeed. 

Crus. (to Julia). Will you keep quiet, once for all ? 

Jul. Yes, we poor servants know the end of such matches; they're 
brimstone ones, or silent deceivers every one of 'em, there. 

Crus That girl will drive me mad. (looks at watch) Time to put on 
the swallow tail, {to Caroline) And you miss, remember the duty of a 
daughter is to obey. [Exit, c. 

Jul. (calling after hUn). Yes, every blessed word, you know, is truth. 

Car. Oh ! Julia, dark depths of despair are delving into my heart. 
They mean to immolate me on the altar of Avarice, but I shall resist, 
and Love will give the weak one strength, (attitude.) 

Jul. I see your complaint ; I suppose you love somebody else? 

Car. Yes, the beautiful and the true are one. 

Jol. Who is it? 

Car A noble master of melody, in the sunshine of whose smile music 
and love float on the rippling stream, (attitude.) 

Jul. What, the little music-master 1 Well, if I didn't think so. (knock 
heard.) 

Car. That's him ; his very knock is melody. Oh, Julia, T shall never 
have courage to te.l him they mean to sacifio me. My lips refuse their 
office. Let me die. (sinks into chair near piano.) 



AMATEUR AXD PARLOR THEATRICALS. 43 



Enter Mr. Quaver, c, with music roll, goes hastily to piano and places it $n 

the top. 

Qua. I've brought the music, {sees Caroline) Heavens ! What has 
happened ? 

Jul. Nothing, only they mean to marry her. 

Qua. Marry her ! marry Caroline, (sinks on music-stool, his head fulls on 
notes of piano — chord in orchestra.) 

Jul. {contemplating them) Now there's a pretty pair. Hi, young 
crotchets, wake up ! (takes his hand) And now, Miss Caroline- however 
shall I bring them to. (takes Caroline's hand, places it in Mr. Qua- 
ver's, they start up as if electrified.) 

Qua. Caroline ! 

Car. Edgar! 

Jul. That beats all the galvanic batteries in the world. 

Qua. Speak, do they intend separating us ? 

Car. Yes, cruel fate, I am to meet my proposed husband to-day. 

Qua. But you will lesist? 

Car. Till death. They may separate these reeking limbs, and throw 
them to the wind, but never, never can they separate my love, (attitude.) 

Qua. But how am I to see you again to-day 1 

Jul. Very easily — take away that music and bring it again. Missus 
hasn't seen you come. 

Qua. Excellent, (takes the music.) 

Car. I hear some one— fly, Edgar, fly ! 

[Quaver exits c. to l., Caroline, l. 2 e. 

Jul. Only to think of Miss Caroline loving that, little music fellow, and 
me not knowing it before. Who says a woman can't keep a secret after 
that"? 

Enter Francis, c. from r., followed by Joseph — Joseph carries requisites 
for the dinner, knives, spoons, $c., and places them on sideboard. 

Fran. I'm furious, Julia ! my master's going to dine here and I didn't 
know it; this state of affairs can't last. 

Jul. Yes, and they mean him to marry Miss Caroline. 

Fran. I shall never consent to it. 

Jos. (l.). Eh why, what's that to do with you ? 

Fran. (a). Do with me, dolt ? Don't you know I've made him do as 
I like, and if he marries, won't he have to do as she likes, so all the edu- 
cation I've given him would be thrown away. Now I appeal to you, is 
it fair 1 

> Certainly not ! 

And you'll assist me in preventing it 1 

We will ! we will ? 

'ran, That's right. 

Jul. (r.). And more — she shall marry the man she likes, little Quaver 
the music-master. 

Fran. Mu§ic-raaste>-, low dein'd low ! 

Jul. Well, he can't help that, he's to be pitied for it. 

Fran. I've done, Julia. Since you guarantee him, she shall marry 
him — I put it to the vote. 




44 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



«! 



Jos. 

and y She shall ! she shall ! 
Jul. 

Enter Mrs. Crusty, l 2 e., in evening costume. 



Mrs. C. What, Julia, chatter, chatter again ? What's this person doing 
here 1 {pointing to Francis.) 

Enter Crusty, l. 1 e., in full dress-coat 

Crus. {crosses to a). Holloa! strangers again, 'pon my life, Joseph, 
I won't" have it. 

Jul A friend of mine who came in to lend me a hand, {gives Joseph 
and Francis plates to dust, l., at back, supplies them with napkins, they work 
away vigorously.) 

Crus. Friends, indeed — you've an army of them. 

Jul. Where there's a dinner ordered in a hurry, 'tain't easy work for 
two pair of hands, {gets to l.) 

Crus. Don't talk to me, you impudent young 

Mrs. C. {stoppi»g him — aside). Don't aggravate her. 

Jul. {presents Francis, l.). Mr. Meek's servant, ma'am. 

Crus. {patronizing — crosses to a). Oh, young man, so you're Mr. 
Meek's servant. 

Fran. I have that honor, {bell rings.) 

Crus. That's him in all probability. 

Fran, {aside). No fear; I've locked up all his clothes. 

Crus. Harriet, my dear, we had beiler go to meet our guest. 

[Exeunt, c. to L. 

Fran, {to Julia). You'll find me below ; there ain't ?io fear of my 
master coming. [Exit, c. to r. 

Jul. Now then, Joseph, help me with the table, {they take table-cloth 
from sideboard and b"gin to lay cloth — bell rings.) 

Jos. Confound the bells ; I'm always a running after them. 

[Exit. c. to l. — Julia places plates. 

Jul. Ah ! if all the servants were like Frauds, what a happy time the 
masters would have. 

Enter Crusty, c. from l., comes down r., looks at watch. 

Crus. Forty minutes past the time and no signs of Mr. Meek. 

Jul. Ami I'm ready to dish up. 

Crus. I consider it very bad taste on the part of Mr. Me*»k. 

Jul. {arranging napkins and bread). Perhaps he don't care about—— 

Crus. {interested). Eh ? 

Jul. Nothing. I said perhaps he don't like coming early. 

Crus. Yes, but I don't understand it ; this conduct is strange. 

Jul. Ah ! 'tain't every one as is a saint that looks one. 

Crus. {aside). What the deuce does she mean ? Bevan assured me he 
was a desirable young man. (Julia sings in an aggravating manner. 
Asile) Confound it, I've a good mind — 1 will too. {aloud) Julia! 

Jul. {still at table). Sir! 

Crus. (r of table). Did you ever hear Mr. Meek's servant speak about 
hw iiaster ? 

Jul. (l. of fable). Francis is a deal too well brought up to say any- 
thing bad about his master. 

Crcs. {eagerly). Then there is something bad to say 

Jul. I wouldn't for the world, you know, but people will talk ; the 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 45 

other day at the grocer's opposite I heard — the goblets, please, (points U 
them on sideboard.) 

Crus. (handing them). Eh, what did you hear ? 

Jol. I wouldn't for the world, sir; but it's dreadiul, awful. 

Crus. But what could they say? 

Jul. "Well, then, they said 

Crus. (eagerly). Yes. 

Jul. That Mr. Meek — give me the knives, please, (same business.) 

Crus. The knives 1 where ah! (gives them) bo they said that Mr. 
Meek 

Jul. Wasn't the lamb he looked. 

Crus. Excitable, is he 7 

Jul. Sir, that's no name for it. 

Crus. Violent ? 

Jul. Worse— he's a tiger, a bloodthirsty eagle. Why, it's only last 
week he neaily murdere t his tailor. 

Curs, (alarmed). Murdered his tailor 1 

Jul And that isn't all — those glasses, (same business.) 

Crus- Julia, it strikes me you take me for Joseph. 

Jul. Well, if you kei'ps on hindering me, I shall never finish my work. 

Crus. (aside). Very true, she's quite riefht. (goes to sideboard and brings 
tray on which are forks, kn<ves §c., takes them to table and arranges them, as 
if unconscious of h>s position — Julia seeing him so well occupied, sits on chair, 
C, and crosses her arms) Only to think what a villain he must be; I shall 
ask Bevan what he means by introducing him here. Murder his tailor ! 
Why a man who would do that would manslaughter his wife. 

Jul. Yes, and enjoy it. Well, I'd rather have a brutal husband than a 

Crus. (gowg to Julia). Inconstant — you don't say that Mr. Meek- 

Julia, (rising). Between us two he's a Bluebeard. 

Crus. Ah, th^y say that, do they ? 

Jul. Well, the grocer opposite; he sees all the goings-on— he says 
he's worse than two Bluebeards. 

Crus. And to think that fellow Bevan should mislead me in this man- 
ner, assured me he was mildness itself and rich as a Rothschild. 

Jul. Rich, ha ! ha ! why his house is lik<> a regular synagogue. The 
Jew ',s running in and out all day, lending him money. 

Ci.us. Jews ? 

Jul. Oh, I wouldn't say a word for the world, but the grocer opposite, 
you know. 

Crus. I've a good mind to — what the devil does Bevan mean by im- 
posing on me — egad, it's lucky I haven't gone farther in this affair. 

Jul. But you have invited him here to dinner. 

Crus. Dinner! indeed! No, no ; but he shall have his desse-t. I'll 
show him what it is to rouse the blood of a Crusty, but I'll • ine first; 
yes, it's cowardly to attack a man on an empty stomach, and I've a na- 
tural aversion to punch anybody's head, until the port has been round 
iix or seven times. Confound him, I say — murder his tailor, (takes stage 
in great rage) I'll dine at my club — nobody shall dine here. 

Enter Mrs. Crusty, followed by Francis, c. from l. 

Mrs. C Ciusty, my dear, I consider this message of Mr. Meek's little 
short of an insult. 

Crus. What is the matter, my dear? (to Francis) What's your host 
ness, voung man. 



4G AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Fran. (l. ), Simply to deliver my master's message, and to say he 
can't come. 

Crus {shouting). Bravo, (dances with joy') Not coming — hurrah ! 

Mrs. C Why, Crusty, you must he mad. {to Francis) You can tell 
your master from me that I consider his conduct unbecoming a gentle- 
man. 

Crus. {furiously). And you can tell him from me that {stopping — 

aside) Never mind — he murdered his tailor. 

Fran. I shall convey your opinion of my master to my master — {aside 
to Julia) I want to speak to you. 

[Exeunt Julia and Francis, c. to l. 

Mrs. C. I must say, Mr. Crusty, you take this extraordinary conduct 
of Mr. Meek's in a very cool manner. 

Crus. Yes, I do, and I'm devilish glad he isn't coming. 

Mrs. C. What on earth do you mean. 

Crus. Why he is a Turk, a Bluebeard, a — seraglio, my dear — harems. 
I'll tell you all by-and-by. I'm glad we haven't gone further in this 
matter. Dine here indeed. Nobody s> all dine here. 

Mrs C. Perhaps you'll allow me to have a voice in that matter. 

Crus. Harriet, my dear, this has dashed my spirits, {aside) If that 
young man delivers my message to his master, the house even mightn't 
be safe, {aloud) There s a blight over this confounded dinner ; a blight 
over the apartment. Let us get out of it — I'll tell you what I'll do — I'll 
give you and Caroline a dinner at Francatelli's, and take you to the 
opera. 

Mrs. C. But Crusty, my dear 

Crus. Not another word — 1'li tell you all about it after dinner, {calls) 
Julia! Julia ! 

Julia enters, c. from l. 

CRus. Order a cab, we're going to the opera, shan't be back till mid- 
night, {calls) Joseph ! Joseph ! where the devil's Joseph ? Julia, move 
those things away. ( points to table.) 

Mrs. C. What explanation can I give Caroline ? 

Crus. Don t give her any — get ready, my dear, at once. Let us get 
out of the house, {aside) Murdered his tailor, {cads) Joseph ! Joseph! 
[Exit, l. 1 e. — Mrs. Crusty exits, l. 2 e. 

Enter Joseph, C. from L , carrying several parcels, also a brush and comb — 
the whole of which he places on piano. 

Jos. Well. I likes the violet best, but the wrinkle-water ain't a bit o' 
use. (Mr. Crusty heard, l., coiling " Joseph ! ") Coming, sir. {brushes 
hair and puts on pomatum) 1 knew that little music-master was a-going 
it too fast, and now missus have stopped the lessons, the young lady 
does nothing but read novels, and stab herself with a paper knife— prac- 
tising it afore the looking glass. It's awful 

Crus {calling). Joseph ! my brushes and pomatum. 

Jos. Minute, sir. {takes bottle, and reads labels) Odors from Rosamond's 
bower, {reads others) Sighs from the Seraglio — let's have a sigh or two. 
{saturates his handkerchief — smelling it) Ah ! splendid, ah ! ah ! it goes 
up to a chap's brain, {empties bottle.) 

Enter Crusty, in dressing-gown, l. 1 e. 

Crus. Ton mv life, Joseph, this is too bad. 

Jos. {aside). Nobbled and no mistake, {aloud) What, sir? 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 47 

Crus. (seizing bottle). Confound it, you've been using ray perfume. 

Jos. It was only a tinv tiny drop -just a smell you know, (wrings out 
handkerchief.) 

Crus. (going to piano). And my pomatum ! d — n it, sir, you've been at 
that, have you 1 

Jos Beg pardon, sir, — bear's grease, certainly not. 

Crus. But I say you have, the pot's nearly empty, and your head 
shines like a bladder of lard — I was wondering how my grease had 
melted away. 

Jos. Ton my honor, sir, first time. 

Crus. (angrily). Don't talk to me about first time, you've been infect- 
ing the atmosphere for the last week— whew ! whew ! you smell like a 
civet, now — you must have emptied the bottle. 

Jos. (pathetically). And I've done all this to oblige you. 

Crus. To oblige me ? 

Jos. Of course, done it at an alarming sacrifice. Naturally I hates 
them scents, it gets over me ;' what I've suffered since I took to 'em you 
don't know, (aside) and I'm blowed if I can tell you. 

Crus. Then what the devil possessed you to use them 1 

Jos. (mysteriously). Because I was determined to serve you — ungrate- 
ful master. 

Crus. Serve me ? 

Jos. Yes, and I've done it, but since master accuses me I will speak. 
Miss Fanny 

Crus. Fanny at the glove shop ? 

Jos. Yes, she's always imploring me to use 'em. I know I've been 
stinking like a polecat all this week — but I promised her 1 d do it, and 
I've done it, but it's playing the deuce with my constitution. 

Crus. She ask you? she? What for? 

Jos Why for love 

Crus. I can't understand yon ! I think it played the deuce with your 
brain as well as your constitution. Explain. 

Jos. It's clear as mud in a wine g.ass. (slowly) The faster the scent 
goes the sooner you comes. 

Crus (flittered). Oh, I see — just so — little divinity. 

Jos. She bothers the life out of me, and very natural too. She wants 
to sea you often er. 

Crus. Now really, Joseph, can this be ? 

Jos. True, on my buttons. 

Crus. (aside). Faithful creature, and I was abusing him. 

Enter Mrs. Crusty, from room l. 2 e. 

Mrs. C. Why, Crusty, not ready yet 1 

Crus. One minute, my dear ; come, Joseph, (they seize parcels, and ex- 
eunt l 1 E.) 

Mrs. C I see it was quite time for me to stop Mr. Quaver's visits 
here, that stupid girl Caroline seems infatuated with him — I wonder 
what Crusty can have head about Mr. Meek. I'm determined he shall 
tell me before dinner, (calls) Julia! (Julia comes from room, l.) 

Jul. Ma'am ! 

Mrs. C. Is Miss Caroline ready 1 

Enter Caroline, from l. 

Car. (with a mournful, dejected air). Mamma, I'm ready for the sacrifice 
—lead on. 



48 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Mrs. C. I wish you would get rid of that dejected air. How can you 
ever expect to get a husband if you go about like a mourner 1 

Car. I don't want a husband — 1 never mean to marry. 

Mrs. C. Don't be silly, (aside) She can't be thinking of that Mr. Qua- 
ver — impossible ! 

Enter Crusty and Joseph, l. 1 e 

Crus. Quite ready, my dear — let us go. 

Mrs. C. {going c). Remember, Julia, what I said about not waiting 
up. 

Crus. (going'). Joseph, go to bed early, (to Caroline) Come. 

Car. (going off l. C, mournfully). The cankerworm is feeding on this 
heart — ha ! ha ! ha 1 

[Exeunt Crusty, Mrs. Crusty, and Caroline, c. to l. 

Jul. Capital ! this beautiful room's ours till midnight. Joseph, what 
do yuu think Ive done 1 

Jos. Can't say. 

Jul. Invited Sarah, Francis, and a few friends to spend the evening 
here. 

Jos. Don't say so, then it's lucky I've kept master's best suit out — I'll 
go and get ready at once. [Exits into Crustv's room, l. 2 e. 

Jul. (going to looking-glass and takes off apron and cap). Shan't we have 
a charming evening 1 

Enter Mr. Quaver, c, comes down cautiously and kuses Julia, 

Jul. (turning). La, Mr. Quaver, is that you 1 

Qua. You know my sad case, Julia 1 

Jul. I know — played too fast, out of time, got dismissed, I told you 
you would. 

Qua. And ever since I have never slept nor eaten, and I walk as if I 
was doing the " Dead March in Saul." 

Jul. Indeed, what can I do for you 1 

Qua. Would you give this to Miss Caroline (offers note.') 

Jul. Consider my principles, (reflecting) Weli, give it here, (takes let- 
ter) Good-by, I'm in a hurry. 

Qua. When may I come for the answer *? 

Jul. (aside). Stop, let me see — (aloud) Come back in half an hour, 
(aside) He may be useful. 

Enter Francis, in dress-coat and white tie, c. from l. 

Fran. Holloa! 

Qua. I'm lost, 

Jul. (whispers to Francis). IVs only Mr. Quaver. 

Fran. The governor gone ? 

Jul. Yes. 

Fran. Hurrah ! 

Jul. I shall leave you to do the honors whilst I dress. 

Fran. If you want a lady's maid, my services you know ar e 

Jul. Fie ! naughty creature. 

[Exit into Mrs. Crusty's room, l. 2 b. 

Enter Sarah, in full evening costume, flowers, §c, c.from l. 

Fran. Magnificent ! you're crumpled like a Brussels sprout. Is that 
the last investment ? 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 49 

Sarah. Yes, and missus hasn't bad taste, has she 4 ? But where's Ju- 
lia and Joseph 1 

Fran. They're selecting, {loud laughing heard off l. u. e.) 

Enter at c, from l., Benjamin and Adolphus in livery— RoSB and Ade- 
laide in evening costume. 

Ben. This way, my ladies. 

Fran. Holloa, Benjamin. 'Dolphus, how d'ye do? 

Sar (advancing). And Rose, and Adelaide, I declare, {meets them and 
kisses them.) 

Ben. (seeing Francis in plain clothes). Now really this is too bad, Fran- 
cis, yon said song kerrymoney. 

Fran. No apology, my de <r fellow, glad to see j*ou in any costume. 

Adol. And very kind of you it is. epulis two bottles from pocket) Mo- 
lelle ! They've been in our cellar ever so long — master do: 't seem to 
want 'em, and if he does he won't get 'era, that's all, (pulls out parcel) and 
here's a tonsue. 

Fran. A tongue that won't be likely to tell any lies about the matter. 

Ben. (taking out two bott.es), Champagne. 

Fran. That will come in useful for the ladies. 

Ben. Maser save me particular instructions to put it in a dry place. 

Fran. Well, I don t know any dryer place than a fellow's throat when 
. e's been dancing. 

Ben. There's a chicken in that, (putting out parcel.) 

Fran. Champagne and chicken ain't bad. (takes out two bottles) Ma- 
deira, I'll answer for that liquor — Meek paid a long sum for it— -he'll be 

g«Ad of vour opinion, (takes out cigars) Cigars 

" Ben. ') 

and V Cigars ! 

Adol ) 

Fran. Ves, none of your penny Pickwicks. (Adolphus and Benjamin 
smell them — to Ladies) Now, my dears, take these things into the next 
room and put them on the table, whilst these gentlemen and myself il- 
luminate, (the three Ladies exeunt c. to r , with provisions, bottles, $c. — 
Flan CIS jamps on chair, and lights chandeliers.) 

Adol. Them chairs won't be improved that way. 

Fran. They don't belong to me, you muff. 

Adol. I forgot, no more they do. (gels chair Mid assists in lighting— Ben- 
JA3HN lights candhs on piano.) 

Fran. I call this doing the right thing, and werry grat : fprig it would 
be to old Crusty to see us— res'lar wax 'uns these. It strikes me we 
shall have a very pleasant entertainment. 

Adol. Can't be off having it. 

Enter Sarah, c. from r.. fottotved by Rose and AdelKm. 

Sar. The table's all ready. 

Iran. ) (j„ m pi n g ff chairs). And the saloon's illuminated (lip*4* i*p) 

Sar. Where's Julia and Joseph 1 

Jul. (outside, calling). Francis, announce Mr. and Mrs. Crusty. 
Fran, (going to door c, announces in pompous tone). Mr. and Mrs 
Crusty. 



50 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Enter Julia, c. from l., in extravagant ball costume, followed by Joseph in 
full evening dress, enormous white tie — Julia imitates manner* of fash- 
ionable lady — sits down. 

Jul. Ten thousand pardons, dear friends. 

Jos. (grand tone). Always the way with that d d hairdresser, 
never tomes to his time (aside) I think that will astonish them. 

Sar (affectedly). Those horrid tradesmen 

Jul. (to Sarah). You've been over-exertiug yourself, dear, you really 
must take care of yourself, you are too imprudent (to Rose and Ade- 
laide, How are you, dears, after the fatigue of Lady Blanche's ball 1— 
and R^se, dear, how is the exquisite little poodle, he's quite a jujube. 
Rose. Poor little fellow, he's very delicate. 

Jul You must tell me about the ball — I'm dying to hear the newt, 
(they sit in a group of four.) 
Fran, {to Joseph). I say, Crusty. 
Jos. What is it, Meek 1 
Fr^n. Siy dog, I often se« you in the Arcade. 
Jos. Yes, Meek, they can't resist me. 

Jos. (rising). Gentlemen, I regret to say the supper is not what it 
should have been— I was obliged to discharge my cook this morning. 
Fran. Werry provoking — nasty creature ! 

Jos. Can you conceive though I had distinctly forbidden her any fol- 
lowers, I found 4 low footman from number twenty-two in her kitchen 
this morning. 

Fran. Impossible ! 
All Shameful! disgraceful. 

Jul. Imagine a cook with a passion. Absurd ! (bursts out laughing, re- 
sumes natural voice) I think that was well acted. 
All. Bravo ! capital ! 

Jos. Ankor ! ank^r! (to Francis) Don't my get up alarm you 1 
Fran. It's rather short in the waist. 

Jos. That's master's fault. I shall speak to him about it. If I'm 
goinj to wear his clothes I can't have my figure spoilt. 
Jul. Suppose we have supper. 

Fran. Excellent, (addressing Benjamin and Adolphus in grand tone) 
Chairs ! (they all place chairs round table.) 
Jul. (sitting c V Francis, on my left. 
Fran, (sitting c ). Near the heart. 
Jos. (sitting c ). Sarah next to me. (Sarah sits.) 
Ben. I'm to be next my Rose, (they sit.) 
Adol. It's werry plain, Adelaide, what our dooty is. 
Fran. That's right, every footman next his hand-msAd. Come, that 
ain't bad for me. 
Jul. You funny creature — now then, let us begin. 
Jos. (giving Sarah wine). Your health, my dear ! 
Sar. Yours ! (All drink.) 

Fran, (taking out witch) Plenty of time, it's only eight. 
Jos. That's a nice watch. Meek's \ 
Fran. No— mine ; bought it out <»f the Christmas tips. 
Adol. The devil you did — mine only came to five pounds 
All. (with indignation). Five pounds ! 
Jos. Disgusting. 
Ben. It's low. 

Fran. I should have presented them to the porter. 
Jul. Ladies and gentlemen, I recommend this wine, (they AH the Ladibs' 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 51 

glasses — to Adolphus) And you actually remain in such a place 1 Come, 
we are acting as mean as our masters with the wine. Don't I see them 
talking and gammoning the guests instead of passing the bottle, {she 
drinks.) 

All {stand and drink). Yours ! — yours ! — yours ! 

Fran, {knocking). Silence, if you please. Ladies and gentlemen, I 
consider this the moment when a blow should be struck for the liberty 
of the British livery. 

All. Hear ! hear ! 

Jos. Ankor ! ankor! 

Fran. The domestics of Great Britian are a persecuted people. 

All Hear ! hear ! 

Jos. Ankor ! ankor ! 

Fran. Speaking figuratively, the shine has been taken out of our but- 
tons. Why ain't we represented ? are we represented in the Peers 1 

All. No ! no! 

Fran Are we represented in the Commons 1 No L are we represent- 
ed anywhere except on the stage ? No ! but in the words of the immor- 
tal Higginboiham, author of " Tight Thoughts," many a rose is born to 
plush unseen, which is corroborated by that distinguished poet, Lord Ba- 
con, in his Don June, when he says, •' There is a tide in the affairs of men 
which taken at the ' Flying Scud ' leads on to — to 

All. Go it — try back. 

Fran To— to the —the Antipodes. Ladies and gentlemen, I can't finish 
the quotation, because I don't know it, but I ask why are we trampled 
on, and our calves gored by John Bull and Punch, when we're in he 
rumble — their rumble servant, I might say, except there's a wheel within 
a wheel. I don't pretend to be a horator like Mr. Nature Groans, but E 
have attended the Hyde-Park meetings in uniform, and I'm on terms of 
intimacv with a groom at Buckingham Palace, and I say our talents ain't 
recognized. Haven't we contributed to the British Literature ? who wrote 
" Sally Brass 1 " wasn't it a Butler— one of our cloth ? Who wrote " Black 
Eyed Susan?" wasn't it a Cook — another of our cloth? I repeat, for pos- 
itively the last time— are we to be dumb, in fact are we to be dumb- 
waiters — ain't we uniform in the matter ? 

All. Hear ! hear ! 

Fran. Don't the mews descend on us, ain't the stable commodity of 
this country livery ? then let our war-cry be blazoned on every napkin, 
" delivery us." Why is there a difference between the Aymenial and 
the lo ^menial ? Why 1 Echo answers— why 1 

Jos. We'll halter it. 

All. We will, we will. 

Fran. I shall conclude in the words of the immortal bard of Strat- 
ford le Bow and the unpublished and rejected manuscript of literary 
members of the St Jeames Club. Meetings must be horganized. Traf- 
algar Square must be taken. Hyde Park must be hoccupied. The man 
that dares to raise his hand, to raise — to raise Ladies and gentlemen, I 
can't finish the squotation because I don't know it, but I ask you to drink 
to the destruction of our tyrant — the master. 

Jos. Ankor ! ankor ! {aside) Aint he giving it to 'em 1 

Fran. We've been trampled on, ridden over, our rights have been en- 
croached upon, and a fearful retribution must be visited on our masters 
— a great Livery Union must be established. 

All. Hear ! hear ! 

Jos. Ankor ! ankor ! go it. 

Fban. I ask you to drink to their downfall. 



52 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

All {with enthusiasm — drinking). Here's to our emancipation, let us 
give a general strike, and down with the tyrants ! 

Jul. Let me add, Justice to the British lady's maid. Why should not 
females have a voice ? Why should not young women as well as old ones, 
be heard in the house? 

All. Hear ! hear ! Bravo ! Ankor . {rattling of glasses ) 

Enter Mr. Quaver, c. from l., Julia rises and advances to him. 

Jul. {to Quaver). Make yourself at home. 

Qua. (l., astonished). Servants. 

Jul. {to her guests). Ladies and gunllamen, I present the orchestra. 
{introducing Quaver.) 

All {rising). The orchest/a ? 

Jul Mr. Quaver, R. M. A. and Y. Z., every letter in the alphabet ex- 
cept L. S. D. I'm sure he will be delighted to play whilst we arrange a 
quadrille. 

Qua. (l., astounded). Play for them — servants, too ! 

Jul. Well, after what I've done for you 

Qua. {aside). If I don't oblige her, good -by to my letter for Caroline. 

Jul. Now then, Mr. Quaver, piano if you please. 

All. Music, music. 

Fran. Now then, young trombone, moosic ! strike up. (Julia leadt 
him to piano, Benjamin and Adolphus remove table to side, l ) 

Qua. {bewildered). The depths of humiliation ! 

Fran. Take your places for the quadrille, {they form set, Mr. Quaver 
plays quadrille, they dance grotesquely — at the end of the first figure.) 

Jul. ( fills glass, going towards Quaver). Don't let us forget. 

Jos. (taking it from her and carrying it to him). Ah ! don't let us for- 
get the orchestra. 

Qua. {taking it) I drink to my humiliation, {they commence the second 
figure, in the middle of it.) 

Enter Mr. and Mas. Crusty, and Caroline, l. c 

Crus. {aghast). D n it, why— why, what's all this % 

Mrs. C. A supper, servants, a ball, my drawing-room ! 
Crusty. Holloa! 

Music played on a little— all the Servants run off c. in confusion. Qua- 
ver suddenly turns round and sees the state of affairs, buries his face in 
his hat, and by mistake runs into Miss Crusty's room, l. 2 e., Josfph 
and Julia stand confused. 

Crus. (r. c— furiously). An orgie, a bacchanalian meeting, a free 
and easy, my servants too, d n it. (stamps and raves.) 

Mrs. C. (l. c ). This passes all bearing. 

Jul (l.— confusedly). It's my birthday, ma'am. 

Mrs. C. And T declare the girl's got on my best d<-ess«. 

Crus. {to Joseph). Confound it, you rascal ! you've been helping 
yourself to my wardrobe, and a pretty figure you've made of yourself. 

Jos. Allow me to 

Crus. Not a word— you leave to-morrow. 

Mrs. C {to Julia). 'And you mi^s, to-night. 

Jul. {weeping). He ! he ! he ! {takes out handkorehief, and m doing ic 
Mr. Quaver's note falls out.) 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 53 

Mrs. C. False creature ! I'm not to be deceived again, and my best 

handkerchief! I declare the creature's crying in it. 
Jul. {sobbing). Mistake in the wash. 
Crus. {picking up letter). What's this ? 

Jul. {aside). Gracious ! Mr. Quaver's letter, {tries to regain it.) 
Crus. {reading). Why it's for my daughter. 
Mrs C. For Caroline'? 
Car. For me, mamma ? 

Jul. In spite of everything, ma'am, Mr. Quaver would give it me. 
Mr. and Mrs. C > Ar „ n .,— ^ . t 
and Car. J Mr. Quaver ! 

Crus. What the deuce does he mean 1 — he talks about carrying her 
off. 

Mrs. C. The wretch 1 

Car. Be careful, mamma, how you abuse him — and if you separate 
us 

Crus. Well, what then 1 
. Car. {with energy). Then the consequence be on your heads — remem- 
ber an irritated and oppressed woman is capable of anything — mark — I 
repeat — anything. 

Mr. Quaver comes out, l., rushes to Caroline. 

Qua. (a). Of course, she is — noble girl. 
Crus. What, you here 1 
Mrs. C. And in my daughter's room. 

Crus. {to Mr. Quaver). Perhaps, sir, it's your intention to create a 
scandal. 

Enter Francis, c. from l. 

Crus. {seeing him). What, more of them ! what do you want, sir? 

Fran. Bes pardon, sir, my master have put his money on the wrong 
horse — that 'ere prophet turned out a loss, and Hermit as ought to have 
been attending to his chapling, led the van — so my master's ruined, 
and 1 thought perhaps a snug corner might be found for me in the 
kitchen. 

Crus. Mr. Meek ruined ! this is no time for hesitation, besides I don't 
half like the expression in the eye of that minstrel, {in great rage) Sir, 
I shall defeat your abominable scheme ; confound it, sir, you shall 
marry her. 

Car. These are tidings to wasli the eye^ of a monarch, {attitude.) 

Mrs C. {to Crusty) But my dear 

Crus. Enough, Mr. Quaver shall marry her, I'll make him. (to Joseph) 
As for you, pack up your traps at once. 

Mrs. C. {to Julia). You can do the same. 

Jcl. {whispering). Perhaps missus will be kind enough to pay my 
little amount over, or shall I hand the acknowledgment to master. 

Mrs. C. {aside). Impossible ; jzracious t I never thought of that. 
(Mrs. Crusty signals her to keep quiet.) 

Crus. {to Joseph). Hfre are your wages, sir. {gives money.) 

Jos. {taking money). Well. sir. you've been a good master, and the 
secret about the glove girl shall die with me. 

Crus. What the devil does he mean? {aside) I wish he wouldn't .^ peak 
so loud. 

Jos. And T hope master won't accuse me if any letters on the subject 
should ever get sent to missus. 



54 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 

Crus. If my wife finds this out, I shall never smile on this side of th« 
tomb. 

Mrs. C. (embarrassed). What a position to be in. 

Car. Mamma, I must beg their forgiveness. 

Crus. } 
and > (aside). Saved ! 

Mrs. C. ) 

Crus. (eagerly). Well, if they promise not to do so again. 

Mrs. C. (eagerly). They never will. (Crusty looks at Mrs. Crusty 
suspiciously.) 

Jos. i 

and \ Never — this has been a lesson to us. 

Jul. ) 

Crus. And shall I say — to us ? — for take my word and after no great 
experience— there's no shot like a hot one from the kitchen-range when 
charged by our cook, and fired by our flunkeys at the target of our 
weaknesses, but may I venture to hope that whatever their short-comings 
may have been, your approval may be the signal for the reappearance 
of 

Our Domestics. 

CURTAIN. 



COSTUMES. 

Crusty.— Black suit and morning gown. Second dress— Evening costume. 
Quaver.— Very seedy suit of black, and black Lisle-thread gloves. 
Francis.— Black trousers ; valet's morning jacket. Second dress— Full evening. 
Joseph. — Livery. Second dress — Very outre evening costume. 
Benjamin. — Handsome livery. 
Adolphus. — Page's livery. 

Julia.— Plain cotton apron. Second dress— Full evening. 
Sarah. — Plain cotton apron. Second dress — Full evening. 
Aded aide.— Full evening. 
Rose. — Full evening. 
Caroline.— "White muslin. 



PROPERTIES. 

Filter, coffee-pot and cups, account-books, milk-jug, rose, pens and ink, coat and 
clothes brush, market basket, bag of potatoes, two bell-pulls, jug of hot water, 
book, purse, tray, tumblers, napkins, glasses, several small parcels, musie-roll, 
dinner service, brush and comb, pomatum, four bottles of wine, beef 's tongue, ci- 
gars, money. 



TIME IN REPRESENTATION— ONE HOUR AND A HALF. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means Right of Staee, facing the Audience ; L. Left ; C. Centre ; R. C. Right 
of C ntre ; L. C. Left of Centre. D. F. Door in the Flat, or Scene running across 
the back of the Stage ; C. D. F. Centre Door in the Flat ; R. D. F. Right Door in 
the Flat ; L. C. F. Left Door in the Flat ; R. D. Right Door ; L. D. Left Door ; 1 E. 
First Entrance ; 2 E. Second Entrance ; U. E. Upper Entrance ; 1, 2 or 3 G. First, 
Second or Third Groove. 
R. R. C. C. L. C. 

ItST The reader is supposed to be upon the stage facing the audience. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 5o 

OAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Royal Strand Theatre, London, 

Saturday, June 15, 1867. 

„- _ __ Mr. Pareselle. 

Mb. Crusty __ _,, 

Mb. Quaver (Professor of Music) Mr. Edwin. 

Joseph (Servant to the Crustys) Mr. Thome. 

Francis (Servant to Mr. Meek) Mr. James. 

Benjamin Mr. Edge. 

Adolphus Mr. Jones. 

Mrs. Crusty Mrs. Manders. 

Caroline (her daughter, with a romantic tendency) Miss Harland. 

Julia (Cook to the Crustys, by no means a plain one) Miss Johnstone. 

Sarah Miss Weathersby. 

£ OSE Miss Desmond. 

AdelaVde . ... '.7.7.7. '. '. '. . ". '.'. '. . ........... ..7.". Miss Waiters. 



SCENERY. 

ACT I.— Scene.— A kitchen. 



| Door. | 



Grate. 



Dresser. 



Door. 



♦Filter. 



♦ ••••* 

Table and Chairs. 



A grate, l., a door, r. ; another door, leading to servants' entrance, l. 2 e. ; dresser 
and filter, r. ; table, c. ; chairs, &c. 



ACT II.— Scene.— Dining-room in Mr. Crusty's. 
| Door. | 



Sideboard. 



Piano, with Looking-glass over it. 



Door 



Door. 



Deor c. ; door l. 1 e., leading into Mr. Crusty's room ; door l. 2 e. leading into 
Mrs. Crusty's room ; piano r. 1 e. ; sideboard l. against flat ; chandeliers c, chairs 
etc. ; .looking-glass over piano. 



56 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



OTTO DOMESTICS* 

SYNOPSIS. 

Th« beginning of the play shows a kitchen, with Julia and Joseph, both servant* 
to a Mb. Crusty, seated at a table. Joseph is drinking coffee, while his fellow-ser- 
vant is going over the family account book. They have a very funny dialogue over 
the quality of the provisions and the dispositions of their employers. Francis, 
another servant, enters before they finish their colloquy, and gallantly pays court to 
Julia. "While they are all busy concocting a scheme by which to go to Cremorne in 
spite of a determination of the Crustys to give a dinner-party, still another ser- 
vant, Sarah, joins them. This latter feminine excites the unbounded admiration 
of Francis, who pronounces her to be " distractious." 

In the heat qf their planning, the voice of Crusty is heard, vociferating " Joseph, 
Joseph !" when Sarah suddenly leaves, as Crusty enters, carrying two bell-pulls, 
which he conceals behind his back. The master begins rating the servants for their 
inattention, and they put on a most innocent appearance. In vain the master 
chides; they have a plausible answer for everything ; and at length he retires, 
fairly discomfited. Here another very amusing scene ensues, in which the servants 
imitate the vices and peculiarities of their employers. Caroline Crusty enters as 
Francis goes out, and the young lady astonishes the cook by her gushing romance. 
Her mother comes in, and lectures her for visiting the kitchen, and then orders a 
dinner that she likes, but finally orders what the girl likes. When Mr. Crusty 
enters, he is completely duped by Joseph, who flatters him to the utmost. Then 
the maid, Julia, loans her extravagant mistress fifty pounds, and gets her under 
her thumb. 

Act Second opens with a dining-room at Mr. Cbusty's. Caroline and Mr. Qua- 
ver are having a romantic tete-a-tete, whert they are interrupted by Mrs. Crusty. 
Some very amusing scenes follow between Crusty, Mrs. Crusty, Caroline, Julia, 
and Quaver, the latter being the accepted lover of Caroline. As the piece pro- 
ceeds the servants hoodwink, bamboozle, and laugh at their master and mistress^ 
and further in every way the clandestine courtship of Caroline and Quaver. 
At last, during the absence of the heads of the house, the domestics have a 
grand ball, to which are invited all their social equals. In the height of the danc- 
ing, Mr. and Mrs. Crusty return. At first they are inclined to carry matters 
with a high hand; but on reflection they find the domestics had olily imitated 
them in their follies and imprudences ; and so they forgive them, and consent *U 
the union of the romantic Caroline and the irrepressible Quaver. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 57 



AN INQUISITIVE NEIGHBOR 

From William Hancock's Farce of " Mr. Scroggins." 
CHARACTERS. 

Chesterfield Stanhope, late Scroggins. 
Major Tattle, a Busybody. 
Scene.— A Drawing-room of the present day. 

[Mr. Scroggins, a wealthy gentleman, disgusted with his plebeian name, 
?hanges his residence and assumes a more aristocratic title, in order to move 
in good society. He has scarcely domiciled himself in his new quarters be- 
fore he receives a visit from his next door neighbor, an inquisitive, mischief- 
making individual. All the furniture required for representation of this 
Bcene is a table, a couple of chairs or a sofa. The other accessories should be 
a letter, some books oa the table, a salver, a decanter and two wine glasses.] 

Major Tattle. It's extremely odd how people take tome — very 
odd, but they do. Here is my new neighbor, Mr. Stanhope — Mr. 
Chesterfield Stanhope as he insists on being called, only came in 
here the day before yesterday, and we are on excellent terms 
already. There must be an undefinable something about me that in- 
vites friendship and confidence, {rising) Everything very nice, upon 
my word, very nice indeed. Furniture all new, and in excellent 
taste. I saw Pipe and Puncheon's cart yesterday at the door with 
wine, three dozen — I counted it. Altogether, Mr. Stanhope is 
likely to prove a very desirable neighbor. I wonder what he is, 
and where he comes from. There's nothing very distingue about 
his appearance — but then his name. A man with such a name as 
Chesterfield Stanhope must be respectable, {takes letter from table, 
reads) " Mr. Septimus Scroggins " — a letter, an open letter for Mr. 
Septimus Scroggins, no address. Is there any one else living here, 
the possessor of this euphonious name, I wonder. Scroggin?, 
Scroggins ! where have I heard that name, {opens book) Why here 
is Scroggins again in this book, {reads title of second book) " Hervey's 
Meditations Among the Tombs." Remarkably cheerful reading — 
just the sort of thing for a wet day at a watering-place, {opens it) 
Why here is Scroggins again, I declare, " from his sister Angelina 
Ann." Why, all the books seem to be Scroggins's. Where have I 
heard the name? Tut, tut— oh, I recollect, it's the name of that 
lady Iraet at Mrs. Trapley's the other evening, who has taken 
apartments at Primrose Villa, and who has just sued for a divorce 
from her husband on the ground of cruelty and desertion. How- 
ever, that Scroggins can't be this Scroggins ; no, this must be 



58 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



some friend of Stanhope's who has his letters sent here, but that 
wont account for Scroggins's books being here too Now I wonder 
who Scroggins is. I shan't be easy in my mind till I find out 1 11 
soon find out, I've a wonderful way of worming things out of peo- 
ple. 

Enter Stanhope. 

Stan, {aside). Major Tattle here, my next door neighbor, whom 
I invited, or rather who invited himself, to call. 

Tat. Ha ! Mr. Stanhope, good morning, good morning. 

Stan. Chesterfield Stanhope, if you please. 

Tat. 1 beg pardon, Mr. Chesterfield Stanhope. 

Stan. Thank you. 

Tat. True to my promise you see, I have dropped in for half-an* 
hour's chat. It is barely a step from my sitting- room to yours by 
the balcony, so I came in by the window. You see I don't stand 
upon ceremony. 

Stan, {aside). No, I'll be hanged if you do. 

Tat. Remarkably convenient arrangement, these semi-detached 
houses, when neighbors are on friendly terms, like ourselves for 
instance. 

Stan. Oh, very, very, {aside) It's the name does it. It's astonish- 
ing how much more attention I meet with under my new name, 
than I ever did under the old one. {sees letter) Hallo : I have left 
one of the old letters I turned out of my desh this morning on the 
table, {furtively puts letter into his pocket.) 

Tat. {aside). He has put the letter — Scroggins's letter — in his 
pocket, (aloud) You, you are quite alone here 1 

Stan. Oh, yes, yes, quite alone. 

Tat. No lodger 1 

Stan. Lodger, sir. Do I l<ok as if I let lodgings ? 

Tat. Oh dear, no. No friend, I should have said. Seeing an- 
other name in one or two of the books I was glancing at just now 
I — (Stanhope starts) Ha ! he starts. 

Stan, {aside i. 1 forgot to tear out the page of those confounded 
books, (aloud) Oh, ha, yes, exactly, {aside) What shall I say 2 (aloud) 
I — I bought them at an auction along with a coal-scuttle, a four-post 
bedstead, and a flat iron, the property of a gentleman deceased. 

Tat. Ah, Scroggins, oh Scroggins is dead is he ? 

Stan. Ye — yes. {aside) I wonder how many more lies I shall have 
to tell. 

Tat. {sits). Scroggins ! What a dreadful name. 

Stan. {sits). Ha, you think so. So do I — so do I, a dreadful 
name ( aside) How fortunate he don't know the truth. He would 
cut me at once. 

Tat. {aside). Not his friend. The auction story won't wash 
through. They don't sell letters by auction, except those of cele- 
brated characters, and no Scroggins, but the ghost of that name, 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 59 



has any celebrity to my knowledge. There's a mystery about 
Scroggins, but I'll worm it out. I'll worm it out. {aloud) Do you 
belong to the Stanhope family, may I ask? 

Stan. Oh, yes, the Stanhope family. Distantly related, (aside) 
Very distantly. 

Tat. Ah : {aside). Now I look at him there's a decided aristocrat- 
ic look about his profile, {aloud) Your former residence 1 think you 
said was 

Stan, [aside) I don't remember saying anything about it. But 
there can't be any harm in telling him. (aloud) I used to live at 
Clapham Rise. 

Tat. Ah, a very pleasant heighborhood. I know it well. 

Stan, (startled) Eh I (aside) I wish I hadn't told him. 

Tat. Yes, I used to visit a friend there frequently, two or three 
years ago. My friend's name was Polwheel. Perhaps you knew 
him. 

Stan. Polwheel, no, no, don't know Polwheel. {aside) Used to 
play whist with him twice a week. 

Tat. (aside). He is certainly confused. Clapham reminiscences 
are plainly not pleasant ones, {aloud) No doubt you felt some regret 
at leaving so agreeable a place. 

Stan. No, sir, none. Not the least ; never was more pleased at 
any event in my life. 

Tat. And yet it is natural, the breaking up of old association 

Stan. Nothing to me, sir ; nothing to me. I hate old associa- 
tions, I came here to get away from them. I am not a happy man. 
Major Tattle. 

Tat. {aside). Now it's coming, domestic trouble of course, {aloud) 
I'm delighted — no, I mean — that is — I am very sorry to hear it. 

Stan. My life has been blighted, sir, blighted, I repeat, sir — 
blighted. 

Tat Blighted ! {rubbing his hands) Dear me, ha ! (Stanhope looks 
surprised, Tattle assumes a commiserating tone > May I ask the cause ? 

Stan No, sir, that must for ever remain buried in this bosom. 
But now I am emancipated, now I am free. 

~ Tat. Ha ! that is free from 

* Stan. Exactly. And here I hope to lead a new existence and to 
forget the past, each memory of which is odious to me. 

Tat. I hope you will, and if my sympathy and consolation 

Stan You are very kind. \ aside) Shall 1 tell him— no, he'd cut 
me at once, (aluitd) You are very kind, but as I said before, it's 
impossible, I must carry the dreadful secret of my past sorrow to 
the grave. I have but one confidant, my sister Angelina Ann. 

Tat. {aside). Angelina Ann ! why, that Scroggins's sister, {looks 
at book Yes, Angelina Ann sure enough. 

Stan She coming to keep my house next week. 

Tat {aside). Here's a discovery ; why, he must be Scroggins 
himself. 



60 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Stan. But you'll take a glass of wine. I'll get it myself, it's in 
the next room. [Exit. 

Tat. I thought 1 should worm it out of him, he has changed his 
name. But why'? a fearful suspicion crosses my mind That un- 
happy woman at Primrose Villa, her name is Scroggins, she lived 
at Clapham — Clapham, Clapham ; yes, she certainly said Clapham. 
It must be so, she is his wife, Didn't he say he hadn't been hap- 
py. Then he must have been married ; faults on both sides no 
doubt. He has left Clapham and changed his name to avoid the 
publicity of the Divorce Court, and now he reve s in the thought 
of being free — of course, free to marry again. 1 thought I should 
worm it out of him. 

Enter Stanhope, with wine and glasses. 

Stan. I was just saying, my sister 

Tat. Yes, Angelina Ann. 

Stan. Exactly, is coming too keep my house next week, but I 
don't mind telling you that I hope it will not be long before she will 
gi\e place to one holding a more tender relation. Her name is 
Julia, let us drink her health. 

Tat. With all my heart, {aside) Just as I expected, he is going 
to marry her as soon as the case is settled. Now I look at him, 
there is something very cruel about his mouth, {aloud) The health 
of the future Mrs. Scr Mrs. Stanhope. 

Stan. Chesterfield. 

Tat. I mean Mrs. Chesterfield Stanhope, {drinks) How coolly the 
fellow insists upon his two names, when he has no right to either. 
{aloud) And now you must excuse me, I have got a little business 
to attend to. {as id ) '11 «o and fetch her at once, (aloud, going up) 
I'll look in asain by and by. 

Stan. Will you now, that's very kind. 

Tat. {aside, at window). I hope he will think so. Good-by, an re- 
voir. ( aside) Yes, certainly a little cruel about the mouth. [Exit 

Stan. Yes, at last I realize the anticipations of a life. I no lon- 
ger hear the hated name of Scroggins, a name which has embitter- 
ed my social existence, and excluded me from the enjoyment of' 
connubial bliss, for who would marry a Scroggins? Independent 
of the respect 1 have for my maternal relative as my maternal rel- 
ative, I look upon her marriage with my father, whereby she ex- 
changed the elegant name of Buttercup for the hideous appellation 
of Scroggins, as an unparalleled instance of courage and self-sacri- 
fice. No wonder her unhappy husband — my unhappy father — 
came to an early grave. They said it was the liver ; I know bet- 
ter, it was Scroggins — he fell a victim to his name, leaving me the 
grocery business, from which I have now made money enough to 
retire, to give up my former associates, to quit forever the hated 
precincts of Clapham Rise, and commence life afresh here in the 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 61 



shadow of Hornsey Wood, under the name of Chesterheld Stanhope. 
Yes, at last 1 shall begin to enjoy life. I shall go out visiting, un- 
haunted by the dread of hearing myself announced by the hated 
name of Scroggins, and 1 shall pop the question to the charming 
widow whom I met at Brighton last week, without any apprehension 
of the indignant refusal 1 met with from different quarters on three 
previous occasions She is a remarkably fine woman, is Julia Jen- 
kins, and has a nice little property left by Jenkins, soap-boiler, de- 
cea.-ed. By the way, I almost forgot she promised to call for me 
at one o'clock, on her way back to town from a visit to a friend, 
that I may escort her to the Royal Academy Exhibition. 



A NOBLE VAGABOND. 

From Victor Hugo'^ Drama of " Buy Bias." 

CHARACTERS. 

Don Sallcste de Bazan, Chief of Alcades. 
Don C>esar de Bazan, his Cousin. 

Scene. — A Rail in the Royal Palace of JIadrid. 

[Don Salluste de B.izan having fallen into disgrace with his royal master, 
Charles II. of Spain, seeks to avenge himself upon Marriane of Neuborg, the 
Kina's betrothed, wedded by proxy, but by him neglected, and for this pur- 
pose seeks to enlist the services of a courageous but poverty-stricken relative, 
Don Lsesar de Bazan.] 

Dor Salluste. Well, brigand ? 

Cesar. Well, cousin 1 

Sal. What news 1 

Cesar. As chief 

Of the Alcades. you should know everything. 
Sal. Last night Don Charles de Mira was attacked ; 

Robb'd of his purse, his swoi d, his clothes 

Caesar. Aha ! 

Sal. But as 'twas Easter eve, and he's a knight 

Of the most noble order of St. James, 

The brigands gave him back his cloak. 
Cjesar And why ? 

Sal The order was embroidered. You were there I 

Cesar. Well, truth to spe.ik, 1 was — as a spectator. 

1 never touched Don Charles. I gave no orders, 

1 but gave — adv.ce ; you hear, advice — no more 
Sal. Last week the watch was beaten. Were you there ? 



62 



AMATEUR AND PAKLOR THEATRICALS. 



Cjesar. Singing extemporaneous verses — 

Nothing more. You know my vein for poetry. 

Sal In France you were accused of breaking ope 

Cesar. Tush. France, coz, is the enemy of Spain. 

To levy contributions on a foe. 

Is praiseworthy by ail the laws of war. 
Sal. In Flanders, near to Mods, you clar'd to take 

Moneys belonging to t.ie Church. 
Cjesar. Did I 7 

Was it in Flanders 1 P raps it was ! You see 

I'm such a traveller. 1 quite forget. 

Hast done ? 
Sal. Don Caesar de Bazan, when I 

But think of you and of your way of life, 

The blush of shame mounts to my brow. 
Caesar. Does it 1 

Don't check it ! It w'll do you good A blush, 

I ta<e it, is but seldom seen there. A blush I 

You still can blush ! I envy you ! 

Sal. Our house 

Caesar. Stop ! To all Madrid, saving yourself, my name, 

My real name, is unknown. Our house's honor 

Is quite safe from me ! Cousin, no more of that. 

1 was Don Caspar —I am now Zafari. 
Sal. The brigand of Gallicia. Malatesta, 

Your chosen friend. 
Cesar. Hear reason. But for him 

I had starved of cold and hunger. Seeing me 

Famished and naked one December day, 

He took compassion on me. That perfumed fool, 

The Count of Alba, lately lost a rich 

Embroidered vest 
Sal. Well 1 

Caesar. This is it {showing it beneath his cloak.) 

Sal. This ! 

Cjesar. Yes. 

Malatesta gave it me. 'Tis becoming, 

Is't not 1 
Sal. Are you not ashamed 1 

Cesar. Ashamed of what ? 

I never was ashamed to clothe myself 

When I was naked. 'Tis handsome, and I hear 

I' the latest fashion ! Look, my cousin. 

{opens his ragged cloak and exhibits vest.) 

I found the pockets full of billet doux, 

So when both hungry and in love, I sit me 

Near a kitchen, and inhale the steams of fat, 

Rich meats, and in perusing o'er these sighs 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



63 



Of perfumed paper, satisfy my love, 

And hunger too. 
Sal. Don Caesar ! 

Cesar. Cousin ! Trues 

To your reproaches. I am noble — true, 

D>n Caesar de Bazan Count of Garofa. 

Before I came to man's estate I wasted 

All my patrimonial. I was rich, 

Am now a beggar. Once I 'd palaces, 

Domains — debtors — devil kne ws what besides ; 

Now I have nothing and Count Alba's vest, 

And love-letters — stop — I had forgot. 1 have 

A thousand — creditors— and they're not enough ; 

I fain would have one more Kinsman ! Cousin ! 

Don Salluste de Bazan, Marquis of Finlas, 

I pray thee lend thy noble relative 

Ten crowns ' 

Sal. Caesar, I am rich 

Cesar. You're lucky. 

Sal And childless. 

C^jsar. That's still luckier ! 

Sal. I've seen, 

Caesar, your degradation, and would fain 

Stretch out a hand to lift you to your seat. 

I'll pay your debts, restore your palaces, 

Present you at court, and from the ashes 

Of beggar Z tfari raise up Don Caesar ! 
Cjesar {transported with joy). You will ! You'll pay mv debts ? 
Sal. 1 willl 

Cjesar. What joy 

For my poor creditors ! and what surprise 

For them and me. Speak on, dear coz, your lips 

Drop eloquence ! Speak on ! 
Sal. For this I make 

Conditions — so first take my purse, {gives it him.) 
Caesar {taking it). I like 

Your first condition. If the others be 

No harder, why, we shall agree like turtles. 
Sal. That is a trifle. To day I'll count you out 

Five hundred ducats. 
Cesar [astounded). What! My sword— my life 

Are yours ! 
Sal. T neither want your sword or life. 

Cesar. What then 1 
Sal. I think thou knowest every ruffian 

In Madrid 1 
Cesar [bowing). You do me honor — and 'tis one 

That I deserve. There's not a vagabond 



64 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Sal. 

CAESAR. 



Sal. 



CAESAR. 

Sal. 

CvESAR. 

Sal. 

CAESAR. 



Sal. 

CAESAR. 



Sal. 

C-ESAR. 



Of all, who's not my intimate acquaintance! 
You could, at need, soon raise up a revolt! 
Revolt ! — a revolution if you like. 
I'd raise a troop of mutineers at once. 
There's all my creditors ; — why they alone 
Would form a numerous army 

I'm speaking 
To Don Caesar -not unto Zafari. 
Id have thee spread a net — a trap — a pit, 
As secret as the f owler's, who lays bait 
For birds — who, <Hih the morning's sun, fly straight 

Into the snare. I'd be revenged 

On whom 1 
Give me his name— I'll seek him out and fight him ! 
I do not seek revenue upon a man. 
Upon what then ? 

A Ionian ! 

What, a woman ! 
No more, my noble ousin. List to me. 
He who by birth, or courage, with the right 
To draw his sword in free of day — who, born 
A noble, meanly stoops *o play the spy — 
The Alguazil — upon a woman — were he 
Grandee of Castile, knight nf Iago, 
Marquis or duke, I'd have bung up as high 
As a tree-top, and nailed udio a gibbet! 
Caesar ! 

Not a word. No ! k^o your secret, 
And your gold ; I'll none of either ! {throws the purse down\ 

I know 
That hunger steals — despair by night, by force 
Or stratagem, bursts ope a dungeon door, 
And cuts the throats of judges, jai'ers, hangraen — 
Brigands stop travellers, thieves waylay. What ther^ ? 
'Tis brave, sw r ord fighting sword, man fighting man ; 
But with a honeyed tongue and accent false 
To lay a snare to catch a woman ! To lure 
The p retty, powerless, unsuspecting bird, 
And trao her to a deep abyss of shame t 
By Heaven, I'd rather the executioner 
Tore out my heart and tossed it i' the mire, 
And let street dogs lick up its life blood. 

Nay, 
Cousin. 

Live in your palace I'll live upon 
A'r— find by the mountain-side a downy bed 
W.th g^psiej, tinkers, beggars and the like. 
Farewell ! Keep with your courtiers and you*- ^vhU^ 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 65 



I'll to my vagabonds and live at ease ! 

I'll herd with wolves — I will not coil with serpents. 
Sal. Cousin, your hand — your hand — my trick's succeeded, 

And you have stood the test ! Your hand, I pray you. 
Cjssar. What ' 
Sal. I did but try you, cousin — that was all. 

Caesar. Then she on whom you'd be revenged 

Sal. A trick ! 

A trick -imaginary ! , 

Cesar. And your plan 

To pay ray debts — was that imaginary ? 

The five hundred ducats, were they a fiction ? 

I fear they were ! 
Sal. Not so, I go to seek them ! 

Caesar {aside). That lowering face— I'll swear he was in earnest. 

His lips say yes — I fear his looks mean perhaps ! 



A BASHFUL LOVEE. 

From J. Sterling Coyne's Comedy of " A Widow Hunt." 
CHARACTERS. 
Felix Featherly, a neioly married Man. 
Frank Icebrook, a Bachelor in love. 

Scene. — A Drawing -room in London at the present day. 

[All the properties required for this scene are a couple of chairs, a table 
writing materials and an album. Mr. Featherly is seated when his friend 
enters.] 

Featherly. What, my dear fellow, Frank! {shakes hands.) 

Frank {looking off). The lady who fled — I have not interrupted 

Feath Bless you, not at all. Only my wife — an adorable woman ! 
But I've discovered she has one serious fault — she's— {sighs.) 

Ice. Whatl 

Feath. She's too good for me. 

Ice. Ha, ha, ha! That's a strange fault in a wife. 

Feath. It's a melancholy fact, though. Eugenia should have been 
united to a man who could appreciate, as it deserves, her devotion to 
domestic duties. Would you believe it, Frank, that angel knows 
the multiplication table in all its complex ramifications. In an 
abstract point of view, I don't object to the intellectual advance 
ment of the sex — but a man feels himself humbled in the presence 
of a woman who knows the multiplication table. 



66 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Ice. Poor fellow ! how deeply you are to be pitied ! But if I 
could picture such a tuture to myself, w ith the woman I love, what 
a happy dose I should he. 

Feath. Ah ! how I envy you those delicious sensations. I once 
experienced them myslf, when I was Eugenia's lover. Days of 
blissful illusion ! We loved, (siglis) and we married. For one "whole 
month I floated in Elysium — not a cloud dimmed our honeymoon ; 
but, alas! honeymoons don't shine all the year round, {sighs) By 
the by, Frank, to change the topic, how goes on your suit with the 
widow you were pursuing 1 Has she consented 10 throw herself and 
three per cent. Consols into your victorious arms? 

Iob. Pray don't make a jest of my suffering. I tell you I am 
really and seriously in love with the paragon of women ! 

Fea.th. Seriously % 

Ice. Seriously! It's not a matter to be laughed at. 

Feath. You are quite right, we must not make a jest of your 
misfortune. In the course of nature, every man loves — we take it 
like the measles — first, you love, very bad indeed ; secondly, you 
are beloved — slight improvement; thirdly, you are married — and 
the cure is complete. 

Ice. You traitor to the noblest passion that ever warmed the 
human breast — dare you ceny the eternity of love? 

Feath. By no means. I have known it to last through a whole 
honeymoon. But about your widow, Frank. You never told me 
her name. 

Ice. Her name is Swandown. 

Feath. Swandown! What a nice, soft, comfortable name — Mrs. 
Swandown. This delicious Swandown — I know she must be deli- 
cious -is she propitious to your suit'!' 

Ice. That's precisely what I want to discover — I cannot any 
longer eniure my torment. 

Feath. Is it a chronic attachment on your parti 

Ice. D?cidedly — from my earliest childhood I secretly loved my 
little playmate. 

Feath. Precocious susceptiblity ! 

Ice. I was sent early from college to travel, and during my ab- 
sence she was married to a rich old city merchant. 

Feath. Ay, the vagrant cupid — though he flutters about a good 
deal amongst the bowers and flowers, and cottages, generally 
perches near the Bank of England. 

Ice. I can't describe to you the effect her marriage had upon me. 
I was miserable, and had serious notions of retiring to a hermitage 
on the summit of Mont Blauc I But at the end of five years, and 
before my solitary project had been put into execution, Mrs. Swan- 
down's husband died. 

Feath. Heaven released the poor man from his labors, and his 
inconsolable relict, I dare say, dropped a warm tear upon the cold 
stone where his numerous years and virtues were recorded. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 67 



Ice. At all events, my love revived as soon as I heard she was 
again free, and for eighteen months I have followed her with the 
fidelity of her shadow or her puppy dog, hut, somehow, I never 
seem to come nearer to my object. 

Feath. And whose fault is it 1 Not the widow's, I'll he sworn. 
The fact is, you're so cursedly cold and reserved amongst woman — 

Ice. No — no — 'tis not that — not coldness ; 'tis the profound awe 
which a petticoat inspires, that strikes me dumb. When Mrs. 
Swandown is not present, I compose speeches full of poetry and 
passicn, but the moment she appears I lose the power of speech. 

Feath. If you can't speak why don't you take hei hand? 

Ice. So I do every time we meet. Oh, that lovely hand ! so 
white, so small, so Loft, that I 

Feath. That you kiss it rapturously. If you were an anchorite, 
you could not do less — I couldn't — no man could. 

Ice Me kiss it — 1 never attempted any thing so daring ; though 
I confess I am greatly inclined. Sometimes, when she obotractedly 
leaves that little hand in mine, I am sorely tempted, but I call res- 
olution to my aid, and respectfully let it go. 

Feath. Frank, I wish you were not my friend — I wish I had not 
such a regar I for your high moral principles, that 1 might kick 
you out of my house this moment. Yon a lover, and drop the 
hand of your charmer as if it was the claw of a griffin ! 

Ice. I wish 1 ha 1 a little of your impudence ! but I haven't. 
I can't look in the face of a woman under sixty years of age with- 
out blushing, and I feel more alarmed at a glance from a pair of 
bright eyes, than at a brace of pistols levelled at my head. There- 
fore, I am come to ask your assistance. I haven't an idea how you 
can help me, but you're such a clever fellow, and so good natured, 
that I mak« no apology for troubling you. 

Feath. Not the least occasion, my dear fellow. I live but to 
oblige my friends, and my friends k'ndly live to make use of me. 
Now let's see what we can do for you. Have you ever written to 
Mrs. Swandown? 

Ice. Never. I tried, but my hand shook so, I was obliged to give 
it up. 

Feath. There you. were wrong — that shaking hand would have 
won her heart. A woman ..iways behoves in the sincerity of a 
lover when he shows an indecision in his " p's " and "q's." She 
attributes them t > his distraction— 'and a fow blots of ink on the 
paper are mistaken for the scalding tears of despair. 

Ice. Dear me ! 

Feath. Why don't you attack her with Jove verses 1 

Ice. Love verses ? 

Feath. Love verses ! He never heard of love verses ! {cross to 
They have often been found efficacious in stubborn cases. 
{takes album) Something like this, (reads) 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS 



" The harp I take, but I can choose no theme, 
Eugenia, hut thyself — " 

What's Mrs. Swandown's name ? 

Tce. Mrs. Swandown's name 1 Julia. 

Featii. Julia ] {pulls at his moustache, refleetingly) Ah ! Julia wants 
another foot. 

Ice. Nonsense — she's got two already ! 

Feath. Stupid ! I mean the poetry — 

"I can choose no theme, 
Sweet Julia, hut thyself, when thou art nigh. 

Oh, grant me inspiration from the beam 
Of liquid light that laughs in eitlier eye, 

Like twin stars mirror'd in the dimpling stream — : ' 

et cetera, et cetera, et cete-ra ! How do you like that ? 

Ice. Perfectly beautiful ! There's passion in every line. 

Fe/».th. I wrote them to Eugenia before we were married — they 
gave a finishing blow to her disdain ; her heart could not stand a 
double the of love and poetry, and 1 carried off the prize from a 
dozen envious rivals. 

Ice. But unfortunately I can't write poetry ; the muses nine did 
not shine upon my natal hour. 

Feath. " The muses nine did not shine"— why you're a poet with- 
out knowing it ! Take these ; 1 11 warrant them killing : read them, 
and present then to Mrs. Swandown. They'll do your business for 
you. (Icebrook sits at table reading and writes on paper) Or stay — 
He'll ruin every thing with his modesty. If I could manage to in- 
troduce myself to Mrs. Swandown, and give the verses to her 
myself, in his name, with an eloquent appeal to her feelings — 
hinting that her cruelty has driven him to despair and brandv and 
water, which are rapidly hurrying him to an early grave — it could 
not possibly fail. Urn ! but he must know nothing about it ; and 
how am I to introduce myself to her 1 (to Icebrook) Frank ! ha3 
Mrs. Swandown any particular passion ? 

Ice. Passion ? What do you allude to ? (coming down.) 

Feath. Has she any fashionable mania — for rare flowers, ugly 
china, parrots, poodles, or preachers 1 

Ice. Ah, yes ! she's excessively fond of pets, and was especially 
distressed the other day by the death of a beautiful Angola cat. 

Feath. An Angola cat ! {aside) I know where there's one to be 
sold, {to Icebrook) Don't take any further trouble in the matter, 
my dear fellow — Mrs. Swandown is yours— ask me no questions, 
but I repeat, she is yours, (takes album from table— aside) I'll copy 
the verses this moment in the library, and then fly to secure the 
Angola cat. Excuse me, Frank, for a few minutes. 

Ice. Don't mind me— I'm going, {exit Featherly, taking album 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



and the paper Icebrook wrote on) What a capital fellow he is — so 
frank and generous with me, and so audacious with women. Why 
should not I he audacious with them too 1 There's no reason why 
T shouldn't — nothing seems easier — it's only plucking up a little 
paan'y resolution, and inarching boldly to the attack. I do "believe 
I have sufficient courage at this moment to reveal the state of my 
peart to the lovely widow. [Exit. 



A PERSISTENT INTRUDER. 

From John M. Morton's Farce of " Master Jones's Birthday." 

CHARACTERS. 

Adolphus Fitztopper, an Atdlwr. 
Major Muzzle, a Diner Out. 

$cene. — A modest apartment on the first floor of a lodging-house. 

Time arid costume of the present day. 

V"fr. Adolphus Fitztopper, a dramatic author, having hired an apartment 
©a .he first floor of a lodging-house on a secluded street, is engaged in making 
alti/ations ia a play, returned to him by a manager, who is not satisfied with 
the termination of the d.ama, but insists that " the youthful Frederick," the 
hero of the piece, insteid of dying at the end of the fourth act, should marry 
" the Lady Clementina," the heroine, at the commencement of the fifth. 
While engaged in accomplishing this literary feat Mr. Fitztopper is harassed 
through ascertaining that a child's party is to ba given immediately over his 
head, in honor of Master Jones's Birthday. To accommodate the little ones, 
the author has loaned Mrs. Jones's servant-maid all his chairs except one, 
seated unon which he is writing at a table, covered with manuscripts, when 
the following scene occurs.] 

Mr. Adolphus Fitztopper (at table). I wonder who that young 
woman's m'.strecs ij ; she said her name was Jones. I think I've 
heard the name before. I wonder if it's the same Mrs. Jones that 

; no, her name was Smith. I only wish she'd turn out to be 

that elegant-looking female that I met in so romantic a manner 
seven weeks ago come Tuesday last. I couldn't tell what her face 
was like, because I only saw her behind ; but I d swear to her 
hair anywhere, which was done up in a sort of knob behind as big 
as a Dutch cheese, and about the same color. I was sauntering 

home through Leicester Square There I'm telling myself the 

same story over again, instead of trying to marry the youthful 
Frederick to the Lady Clementina. But how 1 Let me see. For 
instance, hj, might be sauntering home one evening through 



70 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Leicester Square, and There, I'm at it again. Well, dash it, 

drat it, confound it ! why shouldn't I be at it again 1 I was saun- 
tering home through Leicester Square ; there ! it was seven week;* 
ago come Tuesday last; there! I was carrying this umbrella in 
my hand — I'm quite aware I couldn't conveniently be carrying it 
in my mouth, but I like to be particular— and this umbrella had an 
ivory knob to it, and on the knob were my initials ; ' A. F.," Adol- 
phus Fitztopper, A for Adolphus. Well, of a sudden I fancied I 
heard — {a knock at door) A knock ! Come in. 

Enter Major Muzzle, in fall evening dress, white kid gloves, overcoat, 
black wideawake. 

Muz. By Jove ! Here's a sudden shower, (takes of wideawake, 
shakes wet of it, and then throws it on the table among papers.) 

Fitz. (jumping up). Holloa, holloa ! 

Muz. Ah, John, I'm afraid I'm a trifle behind — eh, John ? (takes 
of overcoat ) 

Fitz I don't know what you may be behind, sir, but you seem 
tolerably well furnished in front. 

Muz. Ha, ha! —not bad, John. Here, take charge cf that. 
{throws overcoat in Fitztoppek's/<«v) And if I don't see you again 
here's a shilling for you. (give* money.) 

Fitz. {after a quiet stare at him, and aside). Can he have been 
drinking thus early in the evening V 

Muz. (arranging cravat). There I And now you can take my name 
up. 

Fitz. Can I — up where 1 

Muz. You're stupid, John ! I mean you can announce me. I 
suppose you are pretty full to-night 1 

Fitz. Me 1 not fuller than usual, sir, before supper. 

Muz By-the-by, at what o'clock do you sup 7 

Fitz Well, sir, as a civil question deserves a civil answer, what 
the devil's that to you ? 

Muz. Holloa, John! Gently, John. 

Fitz. I wish you wouldn't keep on Johnning me in this absurd 
way, sir. My name's Adolphus. 

Muz. Is it ? I thought all you fellows were Johns. No matter. 
So, as I said before, you can announce me ; my name is Muzzle- 
Major Muzzle. 

Fitz. Is it 1 Then listen to me, Muzzle ; if you want your Muz- 
zle taken upstairs, Muzzle, you'd better take it up yourself, Muz- 
zle. 

Muz. Eh ? Ha, ha ! it strikes me I've made a little mistake here. 

Fitz. It strikes me, sir, that j r ou've made a gigantic mistake, and 
no mistake. You force yourself, a stranger — a total stranger, into 
my apartment, call me John, ask me if I'm full, give me a shilling 
— that I don't so much mind 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 71 



Muz. That's enough. My clear Aololphus, if I'm intruding, why 
didn't you bay t>o ? 

Fitz. (shouting). I do say so — I say, sir, I Co say so, sir. 

Muz. Then 1 apologize. Gx\*e me your hand, Adolphus. {shakes 
Fitztopper violently by the hand, which causes him to nearly fall) Say 
no more, I forgive you, the fuct is, being krvited to a party up- 
stairs, I naturaLy thought you were the chap that takes care of 
the coats, umbrellas, etc. 

Fitz. Did you ? 

Muz. Yes, you look like it ; but never mind, I forgivo you again. 
(shakes hands) And now, Adolphus, do you want me any more i „ 

Fitz. No, sir, candor compels me to say that I've had quite 
enough of you, and a trifle to spare, (scats himself at table and 
writes.) 

Muz Ha, ha ! {seats himself en table) Do you ki:ow, Adolphus, 
there's something about you that tickles my fancy 1 I like you, I 
like you much I (takes pen out of Fitztoppeic's hand.) 

Fitz. {snatching pen . Dj you indeed 1 

Muz. Yes. (taking try p~per knife — Fitziopper snatches it o;U cf 
his ha:id) So as I have a quarter of an hour to spare, III tell you 
what I'll do. 

Fitz. (rising). I beg you won't do anything cf the sort, sir. 

Muz. I wish you'd nit down, (pushing him into chair.) 

Fitz. But, sir {jumping up.) 

Muz. (same as before). Excuse me, I like you better So yoi. 
must know that I'm a bit of a conjuror. 

Fitz. Are you 1 You don't look like it. 

Muz. Not professionally, of course, but an an amateur ; that's 
why I'm invited tj the party overhead to-night. So, as I said be- 
>re, I'll show you some trick?. 

Fitz. Thank you ; but as I happen to bo up to a trick or two al- 
ready (rising. ) 

Muz. Sit down again. ( pushing him into chair.) 

Fitz. But when I inform you that havnag got to marry the youth- 
ful F.eJerick to the Lady Clementina 

Muz. Relation of yours, my dear Adolphus ? if I'm in the way, 
why didn't you tell me so. I've been wanting to go for the last 
quarter of an hour, but you wouldn't let me. 

Fitz. Come, 1 like that 

Muz. Good-by, Adolphus. Bless you. {raising his hands o'ver 
Adolphus' head— fiercely) Are you aware I blessed ycu, sir 1 

Fitz. You're very good ; bless you again. 

Muz Now I'm off. (stops and comes bach) I think it rather rude cf 
you not to let me show you a trick or two. 

Fitz. T should be delighted, I'm sure ; but as 1 said before, hav- 
ing eot to ma i ry the youthful Frederick to the Lady Clementina — 

Muz. Once more, Adolphus, good-by. (goes to door, atzd tries to 
open it ) Holloa ! What the deuce is the matter with the door ] 
{shakes it violently.) 



72 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS, 



Fitz. Zounds ! You'll have the door off its hinges I Allow me. 
{getting up and going to door. ) 

Muz. {farcing door open). All right! Holloa ! look here ; {showing 
his white gloves split) I've split my new white kids with your con- 
founded door. Let me look at your hand, Adolphus. [drags him 
and seizes his hands About eight and a half — just my size Your 
gloves will fit me capitally. Where do you keep your gloves ? 

Fitz. Dash it ! Confound it ! {pulling at Muzzle.) 

Muz. There, don't go and say I did it. Holloa ! — What's this 1 
{picking up a white hxndkerchief trimmed with l4ice) A woman's hand- 
kerchief ! 

Fitz. Give it to me, sir. {trying to snatch it.) 

Muz. In exchange for a pair of gloves — certainly, Adolphus ; no- 
thing can be fairer. 

Fitz. {aside). If I don't get rid of him I shall never be able to 
marry the youthful Frederick to the Lady Clementina, {gives gloves) 
There, there are the gloves, and — now go — go before 1 do you a 
serious mischief. 

Muz. Holloa, these are odd gloves ! 

Fitz. 1 always wear odd gloves, it's a fancy I've got. 

Muz. Well, good-by. {going, stops) You are quite sure you don't 
want me any more ? 

Fitz. (shouting). No. 

Muz. That's enough ! good-by, Adolphus. [Exit. 

Fitz He's gone at last, (seeing Muzzle coming in again) What the 
deuce is the matter now 1 (shouting.) 

Muz. I forgot to return you the handkerchief. (Fitztopper 
snatches it from him) Ob. you sly dog (poking him in the ribs) "A. J." 
in the corner ; who's your " A. J " in the corner ? Do you know, 
Adolphus dear, that handkerchief reminds me of a curious adven- 
ture that happened to me— I see you are dying to hear it 

Fitz. No, I'm not. 

Muz. Yes you are, so sit down ! (pushes Fitztopper into chair.) 

Fitz. {jumping up). Confound it ! 

Muz. ( pushing him back into chair). I wish you'd sit still, Adol- 
phus; what a fidget you are Well, one evening, about seven 
weeks ago as I was sauntering home through Leicester Square— — 

Fitz. (jumping up anxiously). What's that 1 — seven weeks ago — 
Leicester Square 

Muz. ( pushing him into chair'). Yes — when suddenly my attention 
was attracted by one of the most elegant-looking females — {looking 
at his' watch) Past nine o'clock, and you keep me chattering here ; 
it's unkind of you, Adolphus Good evening. [Exit quickly. 

Fitz How very odd ' his story begins exactly like mine ; Lei- 
cester Square — seven weeks ago. (seeing Muzzle up at door) What 
the devil do you want now 1 

Muz. {up at door). I'll trouble you for that shilling I gave you. 

Fitz. ( rushing up, seizes Muzzle). Now, Muzzle, listen to me— I 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 73 



am diminutive, but determined — {shaking him) small, but sinewy ; 
and if you don't wish me to do you a frightful injury, you'll take 
yourself off, and everything that belongs to you — there's your 
coat, [throwing it at Muzzle) There's your hat. (ramming it on Muz- 
zle's head) There's your shilling, (taking it out of one pocket, then 
puts in anotJier) I mean — here's your shilling. And now go— go ! 
(pushes him out) There, I ve got rid of him at last, and if he comes 
in again it must be through the keyhole. I'm sure if the youthful 
Frederick only knew the difficulty I find in marrying him to the 
Lady Clementina, he ought to feel intensely grateful, (noise heard 
of Children shouting, screaming, stamping, and playing) I suppose 
the five-and-twenty youthful ruffians upstairs have begun their lit- 
tle games — if I find that Master Jones has more than one birthday 
in a year, I shall give warning at once. Now then if I can only 
get half an hour's quiet work, (sits down at table, and composes him- 
self to write — knooking at door — rising and throwing down pen) Oh ! con- 
found it ! This can't be a private apartment that I've engaged, it 
must be a public thoroughfare. 



THE MINISTER OF POLICE. 

From Tom Taylor's Drama of " Plot and Passion." 
CHARACTERS. 
Fouche, Minister of Police. 
Desmarets, Head of tlie Secret Police. 

Scene. — An apartment in a noble lady's mansion at Paris during the 
first Empire (1810). 

[Fouche, Duke of Otranto, while Minister of Police under the great Napo- 
leon, organized that ■wonderful system of secret service, which enabled the 
Emperor to maintain spies in every house in France and at every court in 
Europe. The method of his operations is described in the following scene 
between the Minister and his equally unscrupulous agent. To avoid know- 
ledge of their interviews, Fouche was in the habit of disguising himself as 
the confessor of a Countess de Fontanges, one of his noble spies, whose house 
communicated with the one next door, occupied by Desmarets, under the as- 
sumed name of Lebon. Disguised as the Abbe Lenoir, Fouche awaits Des- 
marets in the Countess' apartments. For a mere recitation on a platform, 
this scene requires a table, a couple of chairs, a tin box and a bundle of 
papers.] 

Fouche (rising from table). Now for my ferret: to all but me, 
M. Lebon, the respectable proprietor of the house next door — to 
me, Maximilian Desmarets, the most unmitigated rascal and most 



74 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



invaluable head of a secret department in Europe. It was a good 
idea of mine to establish him next door to Madame de Fontauges. 
We meet here unobserved, [he touches a spring in th<- frame of the 
picture. It discovers a secret doorway) Hist ! Desmarets ! 

Enter from the secret door Desmarets, with dispatch-box and papers. 
He takes a chair at the table, opms his box, unfolds his papers, and 
sits looking at Fouche. 

Fou. At least T am sure to find you at your post ! (Desmarets 
chuckles and rubs his hands) These women think only of pleasure 

Desmarets. So do I— my pleasure's here ! (pointing to papers.) 

Fou. I pay Madame de Fontanges enough to ensure diligence, too. 

Des. Madame receives exactly double what 1 do. Suppose you 
reverse the proportions ? 

Fou. You would serve me no better, and she would not serve 
me at all ; besides, she has the enormous recommendation of an 
unblem shed character ! 

Des. She ! — so much for the world's judgment of a confirmed 
gambler ! 

Fou. That is her only vice— a secret confined to us and her 
mask ! It was a good thought to allow masks at the public tables. 

Des. Do they hide many blushes 1 

Fou. They save many reputations. No, my excellent Desmarets, 
I have not spent twenty years in guaging the price of consciences 
without arriving at a tolerably fair estimate of the money value of 
my species, from kings downwards. 

Des And you think my fidelity is worth just four thousand francs 
a month 1 

Fou. With your character I think no one would pay half as 
much for your treachery. 

Des. You think so ? 

Fou. If any body should make the offer let me know, and we 
can enter into a fresh arrangement ! 

Des. Ah ! you know my heart is devoted to you ! 

Fou. I know your head is, and, as times go, that is prehaps a 
better security. But to work; — first your dispatches from Eng- 
land ! 

Des Two. {takes papers) One from Mons. Ouvrard, announc- 
ing that he has opened a negotiation for peace in your name, with 
the Foreign Secretary, but that he fears your other agent. Mons. 
Fagan, is not to be trusted 

Fou Ordered — that M. Ouvrard keep a strict watch over M. 
Fagan. (Desmarets makes a note on the dispatch) An 1 the other \ 

Des. From M. Fagan. stating that, your overtures for peace have 
been most favorably received by the English Prime Minister, but 
that he has reason to believe M. Ouvrard is in the pay of the 
Emperor. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. "* 



Fou Ordered — that M. Fagan establish a close espionage on M. 
Ouvrard. (Desmarets makes a note on dispatch as before) I have long 
found the advantage of running my agents in couples. Two rogues 
so employed are as good as one honest man ! 

Des. And so much easier to be found. 

Fod. The envoy of the Emperor has not yet arrived in London ? 

Des. {referring to another paper). No ; he reached Amsterdam 
on the 3rd, but he will not sail for three weeks. I have made the 
necessary arrangements. 

Foe. Good ; by that time I shall have concluded my negotia- 
tions, and the Emperor will have found himself once more antici- 
pated by his Minister of Police. We must teach these people that 
they cannot do without us. 

Des It is a dangerous lesson sometimes with such pupils as the 
Emperor. 

For/. Hem ! he has trusted me too far, Desmarets. Those letters, 
from his own hand, extending over the last ten years, are my se- 
curity. While I have those, I stake his credit against my portfolio. 

Des. And those letters, thanks to my skill in iron work, are safe 
in their secret deposit yonder, {pointing to doort How lucky the 
Revolution made a locksmith of me when it made a Member of the 
National Convention of you ! 

For/. Yes, we have both been able to serve the state and ourselves. 
Go on. 

Des. {takes a pamphlet up). From our London correspondent for 
printed papers — another of those pamphlets signed " Timon," 
wh.ch have been already found so disagreeable in high quarters. 

For/ Another ? Is the Emperor never to be released from these 
attacks'? Has this one reached France ? 

Des. Thirty thousand copies have been distributed, but I am 
sorry to say I have not yet discovered by what channel, which is 
the more annoying as this one is not directed against the Em- 
peror. 

For/. Indeed ! against whom, then 1 

Des. Against yourself ! 

Fou. Ah ! {starts up.) 

Des. It gives a very minute and apparently accurate account of 
your career. 

Fou. No matter, {uneasily.) 

Des. From the date of your Professorship at Nantes all is re- 
corded—your strong measures in the Convention — your speeches 
in the Jacobin Club 

Foe. Enough, enough ! 

Des. What he calls your peculations in the Nievre — your vote 
for the death of the King — your establishment of the Goddess o/ 
Reason in the Nivernais 

Fou. Pshaw ! a truce to those youthful indiscretions. 

Des. Your massacre at Lyons — your 



76 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Fou. Desmarets. the mind of France must not be poisoned in 
this way ! {strikes table with his fist.) 

Des. Unfortunately the facts are supported by regular official 
documents. 

Fou. They are forgeries — I destroyed all those papers when I 
became Minister. 

Des They have been preserved, or copied. 

For/. Impossible! you alone had access to them besides my- 
self! — Desmarets, how comes it this man is not discovered before 
this? 

Des. Ha ! ha ! ha ! What do you say to this ? {rises and shows a 
written paper much frayed and dirtied) If we have not the man we 
have his handwriting. 

Fou. Give it me. How did you get this ? 

Des. Through one of my agents — a compositor of the London 
printer, who puts into type these detestable calumnies. 

Fou. Your register of handwriting — quick ! (Desmarets gives a 
small book from the box) Peltier, Fontaine, De Coigny, Talon. None 
of the known hands — yet it is clearly not a feigned character. It 
is flowing, bold, natural ! 

Des. Like that of a man who believes what he writes, and glories 
in writing it -the wretch ! {rubs his hands.) 

Fou. I muet have this scribbler, Desmarets, {stopping) do you 
hear ' I must have him ; the author of these miserable calumnies 
must be found — must disappear — a cell in Vincennes first, and then 
a file of Grenadiers. Find him for me, and I will not say what 
I will do for you, Desmarets. {he walks up and down rapidly, "turning 
over the pamphlet. ) 

Des. * aside) Ha, ha, ha ! — I think I know — ha ! it stings, it 
stings . {he chuckles and rubs his hands. ) 

Fou. Abominable' 

Des. k aside). Excellent ! {aloud) Oh ! atrocious ! 

Fou. Infamous ! 

Des. {asidi-) Beautiful! {aloud) Horrible! 

Fou estopping short, and flinging down the pamphlet). Mons. Des-- 
raarets, I can dispense with a chorus. You have ordered De Ceven- 
nes to attend me here ! 

Des. Yes — at half-past seven. "Tis close on the time. 

Fou. And have you prepared his false dispatches ? 

Des. They are here, expressing your great anxiety to conclude 
the Emperor's marriage with the Arch Duchess Marie Louise! 

Fou. And the real ones, communicating my negotiations in favor 
of the match with Russia % 

Des. Here, as you directed, in the inside of the bonbons in this 
box. (shows box\ Hark !— a carriage ! {goes cautiously to window, and 
looks out) It is De Cevennes ! 

Fou. Good !— another lesson for you, Desmarets. Fools make 
the best agents, provided they are skillfully hood-winked ! 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 77 



Des. (aside). I'll make a note of that for future use. Shall I re- 
tire ? 
Fou. Yes. 



A SILENT WOMAN. 

From Thomas H. Lacy's Farce of the same name. 

CHARACTERS. 

Mr. Sandford, a retired Merchant. 
Arthur Merton, a Cambridge Graduate. 

Scene. — A Drawing-room of tlie present period. 

Arthur Merton enters. 

Mer. So, I am once more within these hospitable wall, the home 
of my childhood. But since my departure for Cambridge, a few 
days' occasional visit is all that I have been enabled to bestow upon 
it. Everything remains as when 1 last left it— all .s still the same — 
still ! No, not exactly— Marianne's tongue, by ber father's account, 
appears to be anything but still. Unhappy dog that I am ! I have 
made the round of Europe and half Asia, but cannot find one fe- 
male who can or will be silent. And so, in despair, I return to my 
native land — and since I cannot please myself in my choice, 1 will 
gratify my father's friend. Not but Marianne is all I could wish, 
if it were not for that Perpetual Motion. Oh, for a woman who 
will not ta k ! Id buy her with my whole estate, then become 
richer than before, by exhibiting tho eighth and meet wonderful 
wonder of the world, a Silent Woman,. 

Enter Ms Sandford. 

Sand Welcome — welcome, my dear boy. (shakes hands.) 

Mer. Sir, I thank you. How is your healthy 

Sand Never better, Arthur. 

Mer. And Marianne, too, sir — is she 

Sand Oh, yes, her health is excellent, but 

Mek. Ah, sir, 1 know very well what you are going to say — ber 
infirmity ! Alas ! we cannot expect to find per ection 

Sand N<> indeed ; and I am rejoiced to perceive you view the 
case with such philosophy. Everything has been tried to cure the 
evil. 

Mer. Upon my word, sir, you're very kind, but it is of no avail 
—nature has placed an insurmountable bar to its removal— they 
can't help it! 



78 £MATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Sand. The most celebrated professors of theoretical and practi- 
cal surgery have been called in. 

Mer. (aside). Well, that is excessively kind, to call in surgeons to 
endeavor to make Day wife hold her tongue, (aloud) Did they give 
any hopes of success 1 

Sand. Not the most distant. Poor thing ! it has almost broken 
my heart. 

Mer. Zounds, sir it's not quite so bad as that, either! 

Sand. It will be the death of me. 

Mer. the devil it will ! (calls) Peter, don't send away the chaise. 

Sand Poor, unhappy girl ! 

Mer. I think I ought to be pitied a little, sir. 

Sand. Ah, I see how it is — you repent of your promise. Well, 
my young friend, I cannot blame you— aDd may you be happy 
elsewhere. 

Mkr. Why, sir, I don't exactly say that — and yet 

Sand Be it so. But perhaps you would like to see her, and 
take a last farewell of the unfortunate creature ? 

Mer. I should be most happy to see her, but I must confess I 
am rather afraid of hearing her. 

Sand. Hearing her ? What, then, you have not heard of her 
misfortune 1 

Mer. Misfortune ! What misfortune 1 

Sand. Terrible! 

Mer. No ! 

Sand. Horrible! 

Mer. No ! 

Sand. She's ruined ! 

Mer. Impossible! 

Sand. Her prospect's blighted ! 

Mer. Name the wretch'? 

Sand. Old Timkins. 

Mer What, the one-legged boatmam ? 

Sand. The samo. 

Mer. What a taste ! 

Sand. He upset the boat ! 

Mer. Go on ! 

Sand She fell into the water ' 

Mer. Why, she's not dead 1 

Sand. Worse ! 

Mer. Worse 1 

Sand. She caught a cold ! 

Mer. Is that all ? 

Sand. It settled in her head ! 

Mer. Well ? 

Sand. Since that time she has never been able to articulate a 
single syllable. 

Mer. What, can't she speak ? 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 79 



Sand. Not a word — the poor girl is dumb ! 

Mer. Tol, lol, etc., etc. {sings and dances.) 

Sand. Why, Arthur — poor fellow, he's mad ! the grief has taken 
away his senses. 

Mer. The " eighth wonder " is found at last ! When am I to be 
married 1 This day — this hour — this miuute. {calling) Peter, send 
away the chaise. 

Sand. What do you mean ? will you marry my daughter ? 

Mer. Certainly ! hasn't the marriage been resolved on from in- 
fancy — haven't we wandered together in childhood like " Paul and 
Virginia " — haven't we slept in each other's innocent arms like the 
" Babes in the wood " — and we will now be united, never — never 
to part 

Sand. With all my heart — come along, Arthur, {going.) 

Mer. Happy fellow ! I can sit and talk to her all day long — 
she won't interrupt me. I can whisper in her ear 

Sand. That will be of no avail. What will be the use of whis- 
pering when she can't hear you 1 

Mer. Why not 1 

Sand She's deaf ! 

Mer. Deaf 1 

Sand. Yes, deaf ! 

Mer. You don't say so. 

Sand. The same cause that prevents her speaking, prevents her 
hearing. 

Mer. That's very awkward. Dumb — dumb — dumb ! that's all 
very well, but deaf— deaf — deaf ! Can she not hear at all % 

Sand. Yes, if you speak very loud she can make out a portion of 
what you say ! 

Mer Well, there is some consolation in that. There's nothing 
else the matter, is there 1 

Sand. Nothing. 

Mer. She's not blind ? 

Sand No, 

Mer. Not lame 1 

Sand. No ! 

Mer. Then I'm determined, now that I have found a silent wo- 
man — shall I hesitate ? No, not for an instant. Let her be deaf, 
she's dumb ! Now, sir, if you please ! 

Sand. This way ! {going.) 

Mer. One moment, sir ; a difficulty strikes me ; how the deuce 
shall we contrive to get married if she can't say " Love, honor, and 
obey?" 

Sand. Oh, the clergyman will settle that. 

Mer. 1 shall be the envy of the world, in having a wife who 
won't contradict me. Ha, ha, ha ! because she can't ! [Exeunt. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS 



DOCTOR FAUSTUS. 

From Michel Carre's Drama of " Faust and Marguerite." 
CHARACTERS. 

Dr. Faust, an aged Scholar. 
Siebel, a poor Student, 

Scene. — Dr. FausVs Laboratory. 

[The 3tory of the Devil and Dr. FauBtus is one of the oldest legends con- 
nected with the invention of the printing-press, and has been the basis for 
many dramas from the days of Marlow to those of Goethe. In the following 
scene, Faust should be represented as an old man, it being previous to his re- 
juvenation by the Evil One whom he invokes.] 

Faust (discovered, at table, rising) Youth— Love! always the 
same burthen to their song, {going to window) Happy fools ! 
There they go, arm in arm, down the street. Students and their 
sweethearts — fresh young hearts with joyous faces! (laughing) Ha, 
ha, ha, ha ' Poor old Doctor Faust ! — here are your sweehearts— in 
black robes, and whitheied skin jurisprudence, medicine, and the- 
ology — ah ! (sighing) I have passed many very happy nights with 
them— ah! (he re-seats himself, his face in his hand.) 

Enter Siebel, gently. 

Siebel. There he is reading— I mustn't disturb him. 

Faust. Doubtless they say as they pass my window and see a 
light still burning, " There is old Doctor Faust still at study ; there 
he is, alone, bent over his books, while others sleep or amuse them- 
selves. Poor old man ! ' and they pass on pitying me. 

Siebel. Somehow, I never dare speak to him. 

Faust Why should I think of it 1 — (abstractdly) the time is past, 
'tis useless to regret it ! The desire for youth and pleasure awake 
in me when the lamp of life is almost extinct ! 

Siebel (timidly). Master ! 

Faust. Who's there ? 

Siebel. Me, dear master ! Siebel, your pupil ! 

Faust (kindly). Siebel ! What do you want, my good lad 1 

feiEBEL. Nothing! I 

Faust {sitting down). Come here. Siebel. (sitso-n a stool at his feet.) 
lodi mother sent thee to me, and asked me to take thee as my pu- 
pil and teach thee philosophy. 

Siebel. Ah ! Philosophy is 

Faust. A fine thing, truly. While all nature is rich in foliage 
and in fruit, while youth sings and dances 'neath the spreading 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR TREATRiOAi,o. 6i 



trees ; it shuts itself up between four walls and studies to learn tC 
doubt — everything 

Siebel. Yes, master, it's charming ! 

Faust. Y jo. ';lilnk so * 

Siebel. I — I 

Faust. Come, come, tell me— the songs of your joviai friends 
have more charms for you than my lsssons i,i philosophy. You 
come to bid me farewell ! 

Siebel. No, no. 

Faust. So much the worse for you ! 

Siebel. On the contrary, I'said to my jovial friends, as you e.VU 
them, I can t come with j^on, 1 should lose a night's study. 

Faust. To whom said you that ? 

Siebel. To my friends, who meet, to-night, at the wine vault of 
Master Luder, to drink a parting glass with one of our comrades 
who go^s to the army to-raorow to join his regiment. 

Faust And who is this comrade 1 

Sikbel. Our friend Valentine ! 

Faust. A brave fellow no doubt ! 

Siebel. Oh, the bravest of any of us. 

Faust. Why not follow his example 1 Become a soldier ! 

Siebkl. Me! 

Faust. Why not ? You will wear a fine dress — you will have i\ 
long sword, and a longer feather in your cap— all the girls will 
doat on you ! 

Siebel {smiling). Oh ! 

Faust. Ah, that makes you smile ! {taking his hand) Perhaps you 
have a sweetheart. 

Siebel ( embarrassed). A sweetheart ! 

Faust. Is she young 1 Is she pretty ? Do you love her 1 
Are you happy 1 Come tell me of your love ! 

Siebel. You, master ? 

Faust. Why not 1 

Siebel. I dare not ! 

Faust. Does my black robe and gray beard intimidate you 1 

Siebel. No, not that but it dosen't seem to me right or proper 
to speak of such things before you 

Faust. You are right— I am so old ! 

Siebel. You mean so grave— so learned— so wise ! 

Faust. Wise 1 Siebel ray pupil — you are the wiser of the fao. 

Siebel. Oh! master! 

Faust. I say you are. Come teach me— tell me what ?n love ? 

Siebel. Love? 

Faust. A charming something — is it r.ot ? 

Siebel. Yes. 

Faust. As charming as philosophy ? 

Siebel. Oh ! love is different to philosophy. 

Faust. Ay — it gives more pleasure 1 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Siebel Not always. 

Faust Ah ! I see -thy mistress does not make thee happy ? 

Siebel. Marguerite is not my mistress. 

Faust. Marguerite! 

Siebel. Marguerite — that's her name. 

Faust. A very pretty one ! 

Siebel. Not so pretty as her eyes ! 

Faust. And she is not thy mistress ? 

Sikbel. No. I don't know even that she loves me. 

Faust. Have you not asked herl 

Siebel i have never dared. 

Faust. Indeed ! 

Siebel. Her brother says that she may love me some day or 
other — and so I wait till that day comes— I would not force her to 
marry me. 

Faust. You think of marring her 1 

Siebel. I think of nothing else — I can't think anything else— 
when you speak to me of the sun and moon my heart seems to say 
Mar — gue— rite. I open my ears and stretch my neck to listen to 
you — but 'tis her voice I hear. I look through your telescope to 
admire the stars you teach me the names of— and there — even 
there I see her bright eyes shining on me from the sky. 

Faust {rising). There —go — go 

Siebel. Have I said anything to make you angry, master ? 

Faust No — no — but I would be alone. 

Siebel. I go, master. 

Faust. Thy friends wait for thee — go, join them, amuse your- 
selves, laugh, sing, drink, shout, that the whole town may hear ye. 

Sikbel Thank, you master. 

Faust {shaking hands). Good-night — go, amuse thyself — to-mor- 
row tell me all that yon will do to-night — speak again to me of thy 
mistress. 

Siebel. Oh ! as often as you please. 

Faust. 'Tis more amusing than philosophy — is it not? Good 
ni^ht, Siebel. To-morrow ! 

Siebel. To-morrow, master. Good-night. [Exit Siebel. 

Faust To-morrow ! To-morrow brings tb him happiness, pleas- 
ure, love j to me, solitude and study. Oh, philosophic fool ! Oh, 
miserable pedant, already old — old without ever having known a 
human joy or human sympathy! {agitated) Old, without a happy 
memory of youth — the tender thought of love — the high souled 
taste of glory ! I will know them yet ! I will, if I call into my aid 
the Spirit of all Evil ! The wind rises ! The thunder peals ! Can 
he have heard my invocation ? Be it so, let him come ! I feel that 
I dare front him ! — Satan ! 1 invoke thee I 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS, 



ANYTHING FOR A CHANGE. 

From Shirley Brooks' Comedietta of the same name. 

CHARACTERS. 

Mr. Paul Honeyball, a Rural Gentleman. 
Mr. Swoppington, a City Iriend. 

Scene. — An apartment in Honeyball's Villa, with a breakfast-table 
set with necessary edibles. 

[Mr. Honeyball, having a marriageable sister-in-law, induces his friend 
Swoppington, an eccentric acquaintance of twenty years standing, to accept 
her in marriage. In pursuance of this arrangement the two gentlemen leave 
London by the two o'clock night train, and arrive at Mr. Honey ball's resi- 
dence at four o'clock in the morning. Mr. Honeyball has jinsen for some 
hours and is awaiting the coming of his iriend, whose peculiar eccentricity 
consists in never being satisfied with anything of his own, and always wanting 
everything belonging to other people.] 

Mr. Honeyball {alone). Although Swoppington spoiled my night's 
rest, although he insisted upon it that 1 had the best of the two 
beds, and when we had changed, he grew tired of his, and made 
me change back again ; although, when the bed question was set- 
tled, he opened a debate upon the pillows, contending first that his 
was too hard, and afterwards, that its substitute was too soft ; al- 
though he would have the cloak 1 threw over my feet instead of 
his own railway wrapper, and then found that the cloak was not 
warm enough, and that he wanted his wrapper again — in spite of 
all this, I am bound to recommend him as a husband, seeing that 
he is well off, good-natured, intelligent, and, in short, almost as de- 
sirable a partner as— myself. 

Enter Swoppington. 

Up at last, Swoppington ? I think you have had a pretty good 
spell, eh 1 

Swop. Come — I like that — I do, upon my honor. You who made 
one long, splendid sleep, while I did nothing but toss about, and 
twist about like a porpoise with something on his mind. I'd give 
anything to sleep like you. You, too, who had the best bed, and 
the softest, and the warmest 

Hon. Well, you chose your bed. 

Swop. I know I did, and I chose wrong, as I always do in every 
thin'?. Come what will, I am always worse off than anybody else. 
But where are the ladies ? • 

Hon. Gone out, hours ago — gone for a walk in the woo/ Why 



84 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS 



you don't suppose we keep London hours here, and feel that if we 
are obliged to breakfast at noon, we have been called up in the 
middle of the night ! (takes out his watch) It s nearly — it's nearly 

Swop, {runs to him). I say ! where did you get that watch 1 — 
what a nice watch— capital watch ! where did you get it 1 

Hon. Get it ( I got it at a watchmaker's — Dent's, I believe. 

Swop. I don't believe you did. It's a beauty — a love— the cap- 
tain of watches — does it go well ? 

Hon. Loses rather.. 

Swop. Now that's just what I like, too ; I like a watch that loses 
— one don't seem to get old so fast. Swop with me for mine, will 
you? 

Hon. No ! I rather like this — I prefer keeping it. 

Swop. Well, lend it to me ; then, for a bit ; come, I'll lend you 
anything of mine you like I'll lend you my umbrella. 

Hon. I've got half a dozen umb'ellas. 

Swop. How you must steal ! but I'll have a watch like that in 
spite of you, see if I don't. I'll bu one instead of this beast of a 
thing, (takes out his) Here's a regular old warming-pan for you, 
isn't it ? 

Hon. No, a devilish fine repeater ! 

Swop. I hate a repeater — who wants to carry a churchful of 
chimes in his waistcoat 1 I wish you'd swop. (Honeyball turns 
away pettishly) By Jupiter ! 

Hon. What about him ? 

Swop. What a prime shooting-jacket that is ! A capital fit and 
a good color. Is it London-made ? Here, let me try it on for a 
minute — (pulling off his own) do, there's a good fellow ! (puUsat it.) 

Hon. Will you let my coat alone, you'll have the buttons off ! 
(gets away) I'll give it to you one of these days — (aside) when it's 
worn out 

Swop. No, will you though 1 

Hon. Yes ! And now I'll give you something else. We'll have 
breakfast. 

Swop. But the ladies— won't they sit clown with us "? 

Hon. No, not they — they breakfasted early, (sits at table.) 

Swop. And very right too — 1 wish I had breakfasted early. 
What foolery it is to breakfast at such an hour as this ! (sits on 
chair. ) 

Hon. Well, you know this is liberty hall — you are not obliged 
to eat anything— you can wait till dinner, if you like — 1 shan't. 

Swop No, no ! if you eat, I'll do as you do. 

Hon. Will you have any breakfast 1 (takes a chair, and is about to 
sit.) 

Swop (getting before him, and into his place) T say, let me sit there. 

Hon (laughing). Sit where you like ; now, what shall I help yen 
to ? Here's some cold fowl— what part will you have ? 

Swop. Anything — I don't care what. 






AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 85 



Hon. I hate a man who don't care what he eats. 

Swop. Well, then, there, where your fork is. 

Hon. this bit ? 

Swop. Yes, yes, that. 

Hon. There's the liver wing, then, {helps him) I'll take the giz- 
zard. 

Swop. You will ? Take it — I can't eat anything. 

Hon. Why not 1 

Swop. My dear fellow, the gizzard wing is just the part I like • 
but take it — take it ! 

Hon. Why, I only took it out of courtesy. There, let me hand 
it to you. (hands it to him.) 

Swop. No, no ! If you don't want it — keep it. You like the liver 
wing, I suppose. 

Hon. Yes, I'm very fond of the liver wing. 

Swop. So am I — I'm wildly fond of it. (change again.) 

Hon. Then you've got it. (aside) Poor Margaret will have some 
trouble with this whimsical devil. I wonder he don't begin to talk 
about her. We must lead the conversation that way. 

Swop This fowl's capital ! 

Hon. I'm glad you like it. I say, Swoppington, our poor neigh- 
bor, Jeremy Census, he'll almost go mad w r hen he finds that you 
are going to marry her. 

Swop (with his mouth fidl). Her ! who's her 1 

Hon. My sister.. 

Swop. Ah ! Then he is fond of her, eh 1 (indiferentiy.) 

Hon. Fond ? Mad about her ! 

Swop, (eagerly) My dear Paul, how enchanted I am that you 
eave my proposal the preference. Fancy, now, that an angel, like 
Miss Honeyball, should live to be called Mrs. Jeremy Census — 
bah ! (changing his tone) I don't know that that's the w T orst of it, 
though Census isn't a bad name — it's a very good name— any- 
how, it's a much better name than Swoppington. Swoppington's a 
horrid name — just such a name as they stick into farces. I wish 
my name was Jeremy Census. 

Hon. I think you are a great fool, my dear friend. What non- 
sense it is, that you always prefer everything that is not your own, 
to everything that is. For my part, it's exactly the other way 
with me. I prefer everything I have ; for instance, my wife now. 
I prefer Kate Honeyball to any other wife in the world. 

Swop. How very odd that seems to me, now ! that liking one's 
own wife better than another man's. I can't understand it, upon 
my word ! 

Hon. I hope, however, that when you are married to my sister, 
you will 

Swop Of course I shall. I say, tell me, is she pretty 1 

Hon. My sister 1 



86 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Swop No, your wife ! I don't know her, you know. I wish 
you would present me — I'm dying to see her. 

Hon. And my sister ? 

Swop. Of course ! And your wife, she makes you happy, I sup- 
pose 1 

Hon. I have nothing to complain of (both rise.) 

Swop. Lucky fellow ! I say, go and find her her — I must know 
her. 

Hon And my sister ? 

Swop. Of course ! Now do go— get out ! (puslies him.) 

[Exit Honeyball. 

What a fortunate fellow that is ! To marry such a woman as 
that ! A woman with all the virtues and accomplishments in the 
world— a woman of mind — a domestic woman — a woman who loves 
him -a woman who cares for nobody else. I'm certain that's her 
character. And what's he, a humguffin like that, that he should 
gain such a wife 1 What can she see in him 1 In the first place, 
he's devilish ugly. Ugly, though ? I don't know; 1 wish I had his 
features — I do, upon my word. His hair is better hair than my 
hair. His nose is a better nose than my nose. Why the deuce 
couldn't 1 have a nose like his ] 



DAVID GARRICK. 

From T. "W. Robertson's Drama of the same name. 
CHARACTERS. 

David Garkick, the Celebrated Actor. 
Simon Ingot, an East Indian Director. 

Scene. — An English drawing-room. Period, 1740. 

[An tmanthenticated anecdote of the wonderful tragedian, Garrick, forms 
the basis for the drama from whence this scene is extracted. An heiress, the 
daughter of a very wealthy India merchant, is said to have fallen in love with 
the great actor, contrary to the desires of her father, who, moved by curi- 
osity to become acquainted with so celebrated a character, consents to allow 
Garrick to visit him at his residence, whereupon the following dialogue oc- 
curs. The result of this interview is that, at the dinner-party, the mimic^ 
through exercise of his prodigious imitative faculties, feigns intoxication to 
such a degree in boorishness as to wean from him the young lady's esteem and 
admiration. The original anecdote terminates, but the drama neutralizes the 
nobility of Garrick's behavior through effecting a reconciliation and ultimate 
marriage of the actor and the heiress.] 

Garrick. What a singular adventure. This morning I received 
a note bidding me be at Temple Bar at ten o' clock, where a guide 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 87 



would be in waiting : T was punctual to the appointment, I found 
this man, rode after him, and — here I am But where ami? Nice 
place ! {comes down) Substantial furniture — I wonder who the gentle- 
man can be Stop I why may it not be a lady 1 That coxcomb Barry 
would think so. He says such happy contingencies are all that 
make the profession endurable. If so that fair incognita will find me 
singularly frigid to her charms. Why may it not be her 1 <; Her " 
of that face ! that one face that haunts me still ! Oh, that night! 
her features and her eyes betrayed her sympathy with me. We 
met, pulse to pulse, and heart to heart, and for that hour, Hamlet 
lived, {excited) The audience were cold— not a sound ! Our eyes 
met. and we looked into each other's minds. I played for her — for 
her applause, I was like one inspired and only saw that one face, 
that one look. Those wide daik eyes understood me- they consoled 
me for the want of comprehension in the rest ! ( pause ) Who was she 1 
I asked a friend to inquire ; I have his note in my pocket, {reads 
note) " Dear Davy, after making inquiries about your charmer of 
all the box-openers, I have found out that she is either the daugh- 
ter of the Duke of Dorchester, or the sister of Sir John Dunbar, or 

the wife " (lets hand holding note drop disappointedly) Who can 

she be ? I play to her and for her ! By Jove, if this only should be 
her 

Voice of Ingot (off). Are you sure it's him 1 

Garrick (aside). That dosen't sound much like a lady's voice. 

Enter Ingot. TJiey salute. 

Ingot {aside). He's a good-looking fellow. 

Gar kick (aside) Some wealthy cit. 

Ingot (aside \. I never was so near a player before. Pooh ! I sup- 
pose they are very like other men. (advances ; aloud) Am I speak- 
ing to Mr. Garrick, of Drury Lane Theatre ? 

Garrick (proudly). My features are tolerably well known about 
town, sir ! 

Ingot. Very likely, (dryly) But T never go to the play-house. 

Gar To what am I to attribute the honor of this interview ? Is 
it for a wager 1 

Ingot. Not at all. 

Gar. Then may I inquire 

Ingot Who 1 am ? My name is Ingot, Simon Ingot, one of the 
Corporation of London, and a Director of the East India Company 
— I may add, I am very well known on 'Change ! 

Gar. Possibly ; but I never go into the city ! 

Ingot. Eh ? ^laug/ts) A devilish good joke ! He pays me back in 
my own coin. 

Gar. (coldly). Mr. Ingot, pardon me that I ask in what way I can 
be of service to you. I have but small interest in the Corporation 



88 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



of London, or in the East India Company ; and you, I take it, have 
no desire to make your first appearance on any stage ! 

Ingot. Me a play actor ! Why, this is even a better joke than 
the other. 

Gab. Then I cannot understand in what other way 

Ingot. I'll tell you, Mr. Garrick, sir; I'll tell you, but sit down. 
{they sit) You see sir, 1 am a man of business, and in business we 
have business ways. I am downright and straightforward, regular 
and methodical as my ledger— debtor and creditor, and balance 
and balance! That's all I know. 

Gar. Yes, I can understand that that's all you know ! 

Ingot. Now, I never went inside a play-house, and never mean 
to go. You are a play-actor — I don't mean to say that that's any 
crime of yours. No, no ; let every man stick to his trade. I never 
went to the play in my life, I say, but at the same time I don't 
blame them as does ; if they like, they have a right to p ease them- 
selves. Now, Mr. Garrick, I hear that you are a wonderfully clev- 
er man. 

Gau. Mr. Ingot ! 

Ingot. A— genius in— in tragedy and comedy 

Gar Really, sir 

Ingot. And make the fortune of any play-house where you hap- 
pen to play. 

Gar. Really, sir, my modesty won't let me contradict so compli- 
mentary a statement. 

Ingot. Now, what do you get by it ? 

Gar. {aghast). 1 beg your pardon 

Ingot. What do you make by it? What's your wages 1 

Gar. {indignantly). Sir ! wages ? 

Ingot. Don t be offended. 1 have a reason for asking — what do 
you get by it i 

Gar. {aside) A curious old fish, this, (aloud) Eh? 

Ingot. What do you gain ? 

Gar. Hem ' popularity ! fame ! 

Ingot. Never mind popularity and fame ! They express no 
commercial value ! In plain English, what amount does play-act- 
ing bring you in by the year— per annum ? 

Gar. I— 1 really don't know ! 

Ingot (annoyed). Don't know — don't know what you make a 
year"? {aside) What odd people the players are! (aloud) Don't you 
keep any books ? 

Gar. Very few, except play-books. 

Ingot. But you must have some idea of your profits — come at a 
rough guess. 

Gar Since you are so pressing— let me see — let me say, about 
three thousand a year. 

Ingot. Three thousand 1 I'll make it four — five -six thousand, 
and settle it on you for life, if you'll leave the play-house, leave 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



London, leave England, and go to America, Seringapatam, Abys- 
sinia, anywhere, so that you'll never come back again, and that we 
never hear of you again. 

Gar. Leave the stage 1 

Ingot. Isn't that enough 1 Then name your own terms. 

Gar. What possible interest can you have in my departure from 
England 1 

Ingot. That's it ! I thought you would want to know 

Gar. Naturally ; and since you are so straightforward and down- 
right 

Ingot {drawing his chair nearer). Mr Garrick, though a player, 
everybody speaks of you us an honest man ! No, I don't mean 
that 

Gar. Go on. {smiling.) 

Ingot. I am going o trust you with a secret which concerns my 
happiness — my happiness and the happiness of one very dear to 
me — dearer than my own life 

Gar. Mr. Ingot, you interest me. 

Ingot. Mr. Garrick, I wasn't always a rich man ' I was only a 
clerk in the East India Company, and my position was humble and 
my salary low. I had four hundred a year. At Bombay, I mar- 
ried the daughter of a lieutenant in the British army ; he was of 
high family but had no money ; plenty of blue blood, but no cash. 
He gave his blessing, and my wife brought me a dower of virtue 
and obedience. Well, his blessing, my wife s virtue and obedience, 
and my four hundred a year, all added together, onlv made four 
hundred a year. Still we were happy, very happy, but it wasn't to 
last long. My poor wife died in giving birth to a daughter. My 
Ada, my dear, darling child, {emotion) If I had not had her left with 
me, I too might have died. ( pause) But you are a young man, 
Mr. Garrick. and don't know what it is to lose those who are dear- 
est to us in this world. Strange to say, ray grief was the means of 
my rising in the world. 

Gar. How so 1 

Ingot It made me stick to my desk. I was always at it, cyph- 
ering, figuring, calculating, adding up ; and one day I hit upon a 
plan of doubling the revenues of the East India Company. My 
idea was acted on ; I was handsomely rewarded. After fifteen 
years of lucky speculation I returned to England with my daughter 
Ada, a director of the company and a man of fortune. 

Gar. Very well, my dear sir, but I do not see anything in this 
of importance to me. 

Ingot. Stay. Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Garrick; I am coming to 
it. My daughter Ada — I needn't tell you she's all my pleasure 
now — well, sir. about a year ago she went on a visit to her aunt 
on her mother's side, a lady of high family — and one night that un- 
fortunate woman, that unhappy old lady, took her to Drury Lane 
Theatre 



&0 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Gar. {half aside). I begin to see now. 

Ingot She came home raving about one Romeo and Othello, and 
Mr. Macbeth, and a whole pack of people of whom I know nothing, 
and want to know less ! But— and she spoke in such terms of you, 
and she has taken to such curious ways that it set me thinking, and 
I have found out (in a whisper to Garrick) that she has fallen in love 
with you! 

Gar. (calmly) Humph! As a child falls in love with a new toy ! 

Ingot. No, Mr. Garrick, it's love — a real, true, downright pas- 
sion. She don't know that I know it yet. Mr. Garrick, you've no 
idea what a strange, wild girl she is — brought up in India among 
them women ! Why, she says that genius and talents are a thous- 
and times superior to birth and fortune. Knows nothing of the 
world, you see ! (Garrick bows\ Why, she actually turns up her 
nose at the East India Company, and thinks you are as good as a 
director or a nabob ! 

Gar. {lightly). I am very much obliged to her, I'm sure. She is 
young -her imagination is easily excited. You should talk to her 
— you should be more imperative. 

Ingot Imaginative ! You don't know her. Why, that girl can 
twist me round her little finger with a look or a smile, and she 
knows it. Why, sir, she s capable of marrying you, and making 
me give my consent to it, and what a horrible thing that would be ! 

Gar {smiling). Fearful ! 

Ingot No, no, no ! 

Gar. All right. 

Ingot. I beg your pardon, Mr. Garrick, I didn't mean that But 
I have got other views for her — a cousin of her s -a young man 
who will be a peer some day. My pride — a family arrangement, 
you see. So now, Mr. Garrick, you will see why 1 ask you to give 
up the stage. 

Gar. Impossible ! 

Ingot. Impossible? 

Gar. Give up the stage ? 

Ingot. Not when 1 double your money ? 

Gar. Money ! (rises) What money can compensate an actor for 
the loss of his art ? the loss of fame, and all the brilliant excite- 
ment of his life ? 

Ingot {rises). Humph ! That's just what Ada says ! You won't 
tell 

Gar. Mr. Ingot, your daughter is safe from me. My heart is 
already given. {^shakes hands with Ingot.) 

Ingot. I am glad to hear it. 

Gar. You have heard that David Garrick is an honest man I 
will prove it by showing that you have not done wrong in confid- 
ing in me. I will cure your daughter of this romantic folly. She 
shall ask you to-morrow to be let wed the man you please to se- 
lect. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 91 



Ingot. She will ? 

Gar. More than that. I give you my word, that I will marry no 
man'- daughter without her father's consent, and unless he comes 
to me, hat in hand, to beg the honor of my alkanoe. 

Lngot (surprised). Eh '? You'll wed no woman unless her lather 
comes, hat in hand, to beg the honor of your alliance ? 

Gar. Precisely. That's my pride. 

Ingot On your word of honor 1 

Gar. Oa my word of honor. 

Ingot. As a gentleman ? 

Gak As an actor. Precisely the same thing. 

Ingot. Your hand, {they shake hands) But how — Oh, I see, you 
will leave London ? 

Gar. O.i the contrary 

Ingot. Oh. how foolish of me. Of course, you'll tell the people 
at the play-house not to let her in ! 

Gar \smUes). Nothing of the sort. But you'll see. I don't play 
to-night 

Ingot Oh, don't you ? 

Gar. Suppose you invite me to dinner 1 (easily) You know — you 
know 

Ingot. I know! you seem to know all about it. The fact is, I 
•lave invited a few friends to dinner 

Gar. Who are they ? 

Ingot. Friends that knew me when I was poor — very respecta- 
ble people 

Gar. They'll do very well. Oh, I'll come. 

Ingot. But Ada— I'm to send her back to her aunt's. 

Gar No! 

Ingot. No ? Then how are you to avoid her 1 

Gar. Not at all. I must see her at the dinner — give her a seat 
Deside me. 

Ingot (indignantly) Mr. Garrick ! 

Gar. What ! do you doubt my word 1 

Ingot {after a pause). No! {takes Garrick 's hand) No ! I like 
your face I don't know what you mean, but — come to dinner 
with me, come to dinner ! You will cure her 

Gar. David Garrick has given his word, (false exit, returns) By- 
the-by, what time do you dine ] 

Ingot ( front) At four. 

Gar Four. Till then (botes and exits.) 

Ingot (bows low). What have I done 1 Invited him to dinner. 
Am I wrong ] No, there is something about him that says I may 
trust even my daughter in his presence. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



A HUSBAND IN PERPLEXITY. 

From T. W. Robertson's Farce of " Not a Bit Jealous." 
CHARACTERS. 

Sigismund Scorpion, a Married Man. 
Frederick Follamour, a Man about Town. 

Scene. — Room in a Country House handsomely furnished. 

[Mr. Frederick Follamour, a fashionable rake, being designed by his father 
to marry a young lady, secretly betrothed to another gentleman, arrives at 
a house in the country lor the purpose of seeing his destined bride. There he 
encounters a friend of his intended wife to -whom he had made love three 
years previously. Not knowing that she had subsequently married Mr. Scor- 
pion, Follamour renews his attentions, which the lady encourages, without 
undeceiving him, in order to break off an engagement obnoxious to her fe- 
male friend She succeeds in getting him to renounce his betrothed in order 
to gain her own hand. Scorpion not being in the secret, is astounded at per- 
ceiving, upon his arrival in the house, Follamour, to him a pertect stranger, 
kissing his wife's hand passionately and exclaim " She is mine J "} 

Scorp. She is mine— she is mine ! Did I hear rightly 1 She is 
mine — my wife is mine ! no— I mean his— oh ! What was he doing 
here alone with my wife ? Thank Heaven, I'm not at all jealous, 
but it is odd — very odd— that the very same young man who was 
so uncivil to me at the station— for it was the very same — who 
asked for Sylvan Villa in such a hurry, and who so coolly took pos- 
session of Baxter's gig, which drove me down to the station, should 
arrive here at the very time 1 am gone— I mean that I'm going to 
be gone. The question is — what does he want: Not that it renders 
me at all uneasy — not the least — not the least -but — but— I know 
there are many impudent scoundrels who would take advantage of 
a husband's absence to compromise his wife's position — who, while 
she might be the best and purest —pshaw, how hut it is ! However, 
I followed, on foot, two miles and three-quarters, and what with 
the heat and the dust — oh ! {forcing a laugh) Ha, ha, ha ! The 
most curious part of the business is, that on entering that door the 
first person I should see is— is him ! Ha, ha' and my wife ! Ha, 
ha, ha, ha, ha ! Whew, it is very hot ! The question is — what the 
devil does he want! I'll ask Lotty. No I won't, {returning) I'll try 
and find out from the fellow himself. Now a jealous man in such a 
position would doutless do many absurd things. But. thank Heaven, 
I am not at all jealous— not the least ! It's very warm ! 

Enter Frederick, with letter. 

Fred. There it is ; and now, I hop o { seeing Scropk>n) 

"Who's this * 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 93 



Scorp. 'Tis he. La, la, la, la! {singing.) 

Fred. Oh, I remember the little fellow in the gig. (Scorpion 
sits down) What the devil does he want here 1 He'll be in the way. 

Scorp. {very politely). Are you waiting for any one, sir? 

Fred. Sir 

Scorp. Perhaps for the lady who just now 

Fred. Sir! Oh, perhaps you wish to see Mr. Baxter. You'll find 
him in the conservatory. 

Scorp. Will she come back, you think 1 {with assumed ease.) 

Fred. Eh? 

Scorp. The young lady. Perhaps you wish to see her to give her 
that letter. 

Fred, {rudely). What's that to you, sir ? 

Scorp. What is it to me 1 Oh, nothing, nothing ! 

Fred, {aside). I don t like this fellow ; he'll bore us. Perhaps 
he— {aloud) perhaps, sir, you are a rival. 

Scorp. Me— a rival— me ] What an idea. The idea of a jealous 
husband is absurd enough ; but a rival — oh ! 

Fred. If you are so, 1 should advise you, in perfect good feeling, 
to (pointing off.) 

Scorp. {uneasily). Ah ! you have some hopes, then- 

Fred, {with coxcombry). Oh, some ! 

Scorp. It gets odder and odder, {aside) And hotter and hotter. 
{wiping his face) Whew ! 

Fred. What did you say ? 

Scorp I said how very hot it was. 

Fred So as I said before, I should advise you to ( point- 
ing off) You II only be in the way. 

Scorp. In the way— ah ! 

Fred. So', as the station's close to — only a few miles off— your 
best way will be the railway. 

Scorp. You think so 1 {aside) Of all the coxcombs {aloud) 

But sir, if I could show you reasons that might induce you to be- 
lieve that you deceive yourself — that you are mistaken in suppos- 
ing that my -that the lady— a— a 

Fred. Reasons — what are they ? 

Scorp. Tell me yours first 1 

Fred. Well I don't mind doing that, provided that if I show you 
good grounds for ray belief you will agree to {pointing off.) 

Scorp. Agreed, on condition that the production of my reasons, 
if considered strong enough, will induce you to (pointing off.) 

Fred. Done ! 

Scorp {aside). Now, I like this fellow — he is such an infernal 
coxcomb ! He hasn't seen my wife but for five minutes, and he im- 
agines that he has made a conquest of her. 

Fred. Well, sir, it is now not = 

Scorp. (interrupting). Five minutes ! 

Fred. No ; 'tis now about three years ago—— 



94 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Scorp. {starting). Three years ? 

Fred. Yes, three years— full. Oh, ours is no* an acquaintance 
that dates from yesterday. 

Scorp. Whew ! frightfully hot. {wiping his face.) 

Fred Three years ago in London 

Scorp. Before her husband, Dobson. died ? 

Fred. Precisely. I first had the felicity of meeting the lovely 
and accomplished Charlotte 

Scorp. {statting). Go on, go on. I haven't a dry thread about 
me. 

Fred We were just beginning the outline of a little romantic 
love sketch— oh, nothing more —when my regiment was ordered 
for India. (Scorpion breathes more freely) Eh < 

Scorp. Nothing — ah— a mere expression of satisfaction — noth- 
ing more. 

Fred. But to-day — when I saw again the same face — the same 
form — I felt that the passion of old times — You understand that 
respect for the feelings of an unfortunate rival makes me abstain 
from mentioning many little circumstances that 

Scorp. Oh, you're very good ! 

Fred. However, the former feeling has returned in full force to 
both of us, and as this time I am not going to India, why, I hope 
that — So you see, my dear sir, that the best thing you can do 
is to — {pointing off) So, good-bye — pleasant journey — good-bye! 
{forcing Scorpion up stage.) 

Scorp. Stop a bit ! A love affair of three years' standing is all 
very well, but a passion of more recent date has its merits also. I 
have here some written testimonies of — ^showing packet of letters.) 

Fred. Letters 1 

Scorp. Yes — letters. (Frederick stamps) Look here, (reading) 
" Your dear letter," Do you see that \ " Your dear letter " — my 
" dear letter "—a letter from me that she calls dear '■ Your dear 
letter, which I have longed for with such impatience—" Ha, ha ! 
which she has longed for — longed for — with such impatience — the 
such underlined — three pages more— all like that, and signed, 
"Your ever affectionate Lotty !" Ha, ha! my ever affectionate 
Lotty ! dated June the third ; it's July now the second. Ha, ha ! 
I think that's some little proof ; so, good-bye — pleasant journey — 
good-bye ! (forcing him up stage ) 

Fred. Pshaw ! A letter dated last month I was at Gibraltar 
then ; she had not seen me ; and this very day I obtained from 
her 

Scorp. What ? 

Fred. This, i showing bouquet.) 

Scorp My bouquet ! 

Fred. What, you gave it to her ? Ha, ha ! That's great fun. 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

Scorp. [aside). Now, if I were of a jealous disposition— ^which, 
thank Heaven, I am not— not at all— not the least— whew ! 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 95 



Fred. What's the matter % 

Scobp. {fanning himself '). The extreme heat — stifling — stifling! 
My bouquet — oh ! 

Fred, .taking Scorpion's hat from table) I know how to sympa' 
thise with the feelings of a rival so overcome ^Scorpion starts) by 
the weather ; and as I am waiting for the lady, of course 1 have no 
wish to wound a -so — (giving him his hat.) 

Scorp. (pushing it from him). You are waiting for her 1 

Fked. Never mind — bear up, bear up! and — (pointing of and 
putting hat on his head.) 

Scorp. (thrusting it from him). I'd much rather you didn't put 
anything on my head, sir J I shall do as I am. (Frkderick puts 
hat on table) As to your having her bouquet, sir — what of that ? 
She may have left it on the table, and you found it ! And look 
here, sir — her portrait ! (showing minature.) 

Fred. Her po trait ! Confound — [crossing.) 

Scorp. (toith triumph) Ha, ha !— he's done for ! (taking his hat 
from table) Of course, I know how to sympathise with a rival so 
overcome by the weather ; and as I'm waiting for — why — never 
mind — bear up — and — (pointing off.) 

Fred. Not yet, sir — not yet. 

Scorp. Why not ? 

Fred You have a portrait ! — well, sir, I have 

Scokp. Eh ? 

Fred. The original! (Scofpion starts furiously — puts on Fred- 
brick's hat, which goes over his nose.) 

Scokp. The proof, sir — the proof ! 

Fred, (embarrassed). The proof ! 

Scocp. Where is it 1 show it me ! 

Fred. You shall have it immediately, signed by herself ; only 
give me a few minutes. 

Scorp. (crying, aside. Now if I were of a jealous disposition — 
but I m not, thank Heaven ! not at all, in the least, (quickly) What 
time do you want ? 

Fred. Oh about a quarter of an hour. 

Scorp Eh 1 

Fred. Perhaps less. 

Scorp. {aside). Of all the coxcombs ! {aloud) Then in one quar- 
ter of an hour, unless you give me the written proof 

Fred. I leave the field to you 'Sh ! some one comes. Now 
go— go. 

Scorp. Yes, yes. (aside) Leave Lotty aloue with this conceited— 

Frkd 'Tis she. I run to meet her. [Exit. 

Scorp. Yes. Kgoiny) Ah! Thank Heaven, I'm not of a jealous 
disposition — not the least ! — but these young fellows are so fast. 

[Exit. 



00 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS 



THE BUCCANEEE. 

From Lord Lytton's Play of " The Rightful Heir." 
CHARACTERS. 

Vyvyan, Captain of a Privateer 
Alton, a Village Priest. 

Scene. — A Pocky Landscape in England, during the reign of Queen 

Elizabeth. 

Alton. And I believed them when they said " He died 
. In the far seas." Ten years of desolate >orro\v 
Passed as one night — Now thy warm hand awakes me. 

Vyv. Dear friend, the sun sets fast. 

Alton. Alas! then listen 

There was a page, fair, gentle, brave, but low born — 

And in those years when, to young eyes the world, 

With all the rough disparities of fortune, 

Floats level thro' the morning haze of fancy, 

He loved the heiress of a lordly house : 

She scarce from childhood, listening, loved again, 

And secret nuptials hallowed stolen meetings— 

'Till one — I know not whom (perchance a kinsman, 

Heir to that house — if childless died its daughter) 

Spied — tracked the bridegroom to the bridal bower, 

Aroused the sire, and said, " Thy child's dishonered !" 

Snatching his sword, the father sought the chamber, 

Burst the closed portal— but his lifted hand 

Escaped the crime Cold as a fallen statue, 

Cast from its blessed pedestal forever, 

The bride lay senseless on the lonely floor 

By the ope'd casement, from whose terrible height 

The generous boy, to save her life or honor, 

Had plunged into his own sure death below. 

Vyv. A happy death, if it saved her he loved ' 

Alton. A midnight grave concealed the mangled clay, 

And buried the bride's secret. Few nights after, 

Darkly as life from him had passed away, 

Life dawned on thee — and, from the unconscious mother, 

Stern bands conveyed the pledge of fatal nuptials 

To the poor priest, who to thy loftier kindred 

Owed the mean roof that sheltered thee. 

Vyv. Oh, say 

I have a mother still ! 

Alton. Yes ! 

Vyv. {with joy). Oh ! 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 97 



Alton. She survived — 

Her vows, thy birth, by the blind world unguessed ; 
And after years of woe and vain resistance, 
Forced to a lordlier husband's arras. 

Vyv. My soul 

Ofttimes recalls a shadowy mourn fulness, 
With woman's patient brow, and saddest tears 
Dropped fast from woman s eyes; — they were my mother'* 

Alton. In stealth a w.fe — in stealth a mother! yes, 
Then did she love thee, then aspired to own 
In coming times, and bade me hoard these proofs 
For that blest day. Alas ! new ties 
Brought new affections— to the second nuptials 
A second son was born ; she loved him better, 
Better than thee— than her own soul ! 

Vyv. Poor mother ! 

Alton. And haughtier thoughts on riper life arose, 

And worldly greatness feared the world's dread shame, 
And she forsook her visits to thy pillow, 
And the sire threatened, and the kinsman prayed, 
Till, over urged by terror for thy safety, 
I took reluctant vows to mask the truth 
And hush thy rights while lived thy mother's sire, 
And he, her second unsuspecting lord. 
Thus thy youth, nameless, left my lonely roof. 
The sire' and husband died while thou wert absent. 
Thou liv'st — thou hast returned ; mine oaih is freed ; 
These scrolls attest my tale and prove thy birthright- 
Hail, lord of Beaufort — Heir of Montreville ! 

Vyv. 'Tis she— 'tis she ! At the first glance 1 loved her ! 
And when I told my woes, she wept— she wept ! 
This is her writing. Look— look where she calls me 
"Edmond and child." Old man, how thou hast wronged her ! 
Joy— joy ! 1 fly to claim and find a mother : 

[Exit Vyvyan. 

Alton. Just power, propitiate Nature to that cry. 

And from the hardened rock, let living streams 
Gush as in Horeb ! Ah, how faintly flags, 
Strained by unwonted action, weary age ! 
I'll seek the neighboring hamlet — rest and pray. 

[Exit Alton. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



TWO GAY DECEIVERS. 

From T. W. Robertson's Farce of the same name. 
CHARACTERS. 

Apollo Black, a Chemist and Druggist. 
Lothario White, Professor of Languages. 
Grey, a Policeman. 

Scene. — A Cell in a Police Station. Wooden bench, rude table, pitche* 
of water — door with grating over it. 

At the beginning of scene, Grey, a policeman, pushes in Black, through 

door. 

Grey. Here you are ! 

Black Yes, I see I am. {sighing) Oh, dear me ! Waiter ! 

Grey Waiter ! Officer you mean — you're not at the public 
house. 1 say ■(coining closer) Who are you ? 

Black. Apollo Black — a respectable tradesman. 

Grey. Pshaw ! Don't come that here. What lay are you on ? 

Black. Lay ! 

Grev. Yes ; is it an old game, or are you on a fresh 'un? 

Black. A fresh lay 1 (Guey nods) I don't understand you. I 
never heard the words " fresh lay," except in reference to eggs at 
breakfast. 

Grey. Ah, I see, you're a reg'lar old 'un. [giving him a dig in the 
ribs) Come, tell me, you're on the slant, ain't you 1 

Black. i the slant t 

Grey. Oh, well, if you're going to keep close, I'm off. (going.) 

Black. Waiter ! 

Grey. Officer, 

Black. Let me have a private cell. T don't wished to be lodged 
with other vagabonds — I mean with every vagabond. I wish to be 
alone — I require a deep solitude and a private cell. 

Grey. You can have one if you like to pay a bull for it. 

Black. Pay a bull ? 

Grey. What a chaffing chap you are ! Well, then you can have 
one for five bob. 

Bl\ck. Waiter ! 

Grey Officer. 

Black. Are you conversant with geography 1 

Grey Can't say I am. (aside) Is he a reg'lar prig, or only a 
hamiteur ? 

Black. Because if you were, you would know that on the vast 
continent of America, on the other side of the Atlantic — in Austra- 
lia, on the other side of the Pacific — in her Majesty's possessions 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 99 



in Tndia— at the Cape of Good Hope — and in some of the Friendly 
and Marquesas Islands — even at remote New Zealand, they speak 
the English language. 

Gkey. Well, what of that "? 

Black. Then, as an Indian chieftain would observe " Why wiil 
not my blue brother speak with the tongue of his tribe V 

Grey. Eh? 

Black. What do you mean by " bob " — "bulll" I have heard 
of John Bull, and an excellent old comedy it is — but never of Bob 
Bull. 

Grey. Oh, I mean — if you want to be by yourself, you must pay 
five shillings. 

Black. Five shillings ! now I understand. There, {gives money) 
now take me to a private cell. 

Grey ( pocketing it). Why, here you are. 

Black. Here ! 

Grey. Yes — this is a private cell. 

Black. I think it is — but there is no furniture. 

Grey. No more there isn't ; but all it wants is a carpet and some 
chairs, and a table — and if you like to have them put in at you*. 
own expense, you are at liberty to do so. 

Black. I dare say I am. Well, a night's soon passed. 

Grey. ( putting his lantern on table). Do you want anything 1 

Black. No — yes— I— where's my snuff-box — I've left it some- 
wh?res ; j T es, bring me threepenn'orth of snuff. 

Grey. Very good ! {ties a knot in his handkerchief.) 

Black. What s that for 1 

Grey. So that 1 may recollect. Now give me sixpence. 

Black. What for ? 

Grey. Threepenn'orth of snuff— threepenn'orth is always six- 
pence here. 

Black. There, {give money.) 

Grey. All right-— back in a minute. [Exit through door. 

Black. Giving sixpence for threepenn'orth of snuff is certainly 
paying through the nose. Well, here I am shut up in prison, like 
a dumb or incarcerated negro — a shut up Black. Me, in jail ! — 
me, a respectable tradesman! without a spot upon my reputation, 
and without snuff ! Unlucky was the hour, now a fortnight ago, 
when I took a chemist's and druggist's business. Having purchas- 
ed the business, I naturally concluded that I was a chemist and 
druggist — so I set to work and compounded various medicines, 
among others an eye-water. A patient came into my shop who 
was afflicted with opthalmia — I recommended my eye-water. He 
bought it, he applied it, and in three days he was completely cured 
of one eye altogether. The opthalmia had disappeared, and taken 
one of his eyes with it. He came to me, said my eye water was all 
my eye and Betty Martin. I told him that I had miscalculated, 
that I was out — and he interrupted me by saying that his eye was 



LefC. 



100 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



out. I repeated that I too was out— he insisted that his one eye 
was out too. I was immediately accused of practising medicine 
without being duly qualified — and here I am, remanded! — but 
why should I complain 7 Galileo was not understood by his ago. 
What will my wife think of my prolonged absence t She's as jeal- 
ous as— a woman ; now I feel every confidence in her, and therefore 
have placed a watch upon her every movement. Oh, if I only had 
my snuff-box, it might inspire me with the thought of how to get 
out of this! I've read Monte Cristo and Jack Sheppard - he got 
out of Newgate with no help but his own fingers and one naii. 
( feeling his pockets) Have I a nail ? No, nothing but a toothpick. 
\noise of locks, %c. , outside) Some one coming — let me conceal my 
crowbar. 

Grey brings White on. 

Grey. Here you are ! 
• White. I see 1 am. 

Guey. Five shillings if you want to have a private cell. 

White. There you are. {gives money — aside) Oh, love ! love! into 
how -many more scrapes are you goiin: to get me ? 

Black {aside to Grey). Who is this ? 

Grey. Oh, a pal of some sort or other — I think he's a raanslaugh- 
terer. 

Black. But I paid five shillings to be alone. 

Grey. So did he 

White {seeing Black). Hullo ! here, jailer ! 

Grey. Officer ! 

White. Who's that ? 

Grey (aside tohhn). Oh, he's a first-rate hand— he's a cracks- 
man, a garroter — a housebreaker. 

White. But I paid five shillings to be alone. 

Grey. So did he. 

Black. If I only had my snuff-box. Waiter ! 

Grey Officer! 

Black. My snuff. 

Grey. Oh, beg pardon — 1 quite forgot— all right — I'll tie a knot 
in my handkerchief. 

Black. But there is one already. 

Grey. All right! the second will remind me what the first was 
about. Back in a minute. [Exit. 

(Black and White stand at a long distance from each other — a pause.) 

Black. Shut up with a manslaughterer, without snuff ! I'd as 
leave be left alone with a crocodile, {aside.) 

White (asid< j ). Alone with a Thug ! Me ! a teacher of lan- 
guages. 

Black. He looks like a man who wcidd commit manslaughter. 

White. There's Newgate in his countenance 

Black {aside). If he knows that I'm an honest man, he, perhaps, 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 101 



might garrote me. I'd better epeak respectfully to him. {aloud) 
Sir! 

White. Sir, I — (aside) When you're in Rome — (they get nearer to 
each other — White taps him on the shoulder timidly — lie returns it) Eh, 
eh, eh 1 

Black. Eh, eh, eh 1 

White. Well— friend — eh, eh, eh ? 

Black. Eh, eh, eh ? (aside) He takes me for one of his own class 
— so be it. 

White (aside). I must, for my own safety, assume to be a ruffian 
of ensanguined dye. So they've grabbed you at last ! 

Black. Yes, yes ! the pitcher that goes loo often to the well, 
you know — eh, eh 1 

White (aside). I'll talk slang, (aloud) Is this the first time you've 
be i n jugged ? 

Black. Yes— I mean no — no— no ! This is the thirteenth time. 

White. Thirteen ! (aside) He's a regular old hand. 

Black. And you — have you 

White. Oh, me 1 I've escaped four times from the hulks 

Black. Four times ! 

White. Yes — once on foot — once on horseback — once in a cab. 
and the last time 

Black. In a balloon ! 

White. No, in my drawers. 

Black. Capital ! splendid life, isn't it 1 

White. Stunning ! 

Black. First-rate ! 

White. First-rate! 

Black (aside). What a wretch ! 

White (aside). What a monster I 

Black. Give us your hand. 

White. Eh 1 (aside) My ring ! (changes ring to other hand) Ah, 
you're a pal. 

Black. I am ! 

White. Come to my arms, (they are about to embrace, when both 
suddenly stop ) 

Black (aside) My watch ! (buttons up his coat.) 

White. My pin ! (buttons up to the throat) Now — 

Black. Now — ( they embrace.) 

White. Tn a box of the stone jug I was born, 
Of a hempen widow the kid forlorn, 

Fake away! 
And ray noble father, as I heard say, 
Was a famous merchant of capers gay, 

Black. Nix my dolly pals fake away. 

Both. Nix my dolly pals fake away. 

Obey enters, with two haves and a pitcher. 



102 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Grey. Here's your supper — bread and water. 

White with disgust). Water ! 

Grky Oh, you can have what you like from the hotel dose to. 

Black. Of course let s have a nice supper, [taking out purse.) 

White. What\ 'rave you got any tin 1 

Black, [hiding his purse) I forgot — eh ? eh 1 — a little. 

Grey. I say, you've not been put down on the sheet yet. 

Black. No. 

Grey. Come along. 

Black. With pleasure, (aside) If he'd only put me somewhere 
else avay from this horrible 

White I hope he wont come back again. 

Black. I shall soon be back, old fellow. 

White. 1 hope so Don't be long. [Exeunt Grey and Black. 

White. Whew ! thank Heaven he's gone. The idea of my pre- 
tending to be a thief ! — Lothario White ! a respectable teacher of 
languages ! who never in his life took anything — stop ! when I say 
I never took anything, I'm wrong, for this morning 1 took an om- 
nibus — or I should say the omnibus took me- for 1 received a let- 
ter from a lady in this neighborhood, saying she wanted to learn 
Italian. I had scarcely taken the omnibus for five minutes — or 
more correctly speaking, the omnibus had scarcely taken me five 
minutes, before I heard a sweet, melodious voice, that sounded like 
' : the murmur of lone fountains, that gush forth in the midst of 
roses," exclaim, "I haven't got my tuppence." I turned round — 
I looked at her — 'twas Juli.i -my Julia, who hadn't got her tup- 
pence. The conductor gave it her — my emotion was easier to be 
imagined than described -to meet with Julia, to whom I was once 
going to be married— but her stupid old father married her to 
somebody else -I say again to meet with Julia — to find her — my 
first love, married, in an omnibus, and wanting her tuppence. She 
told me that she lived in the neighborhood. She got out of the 
vehicle —so did I — she led me to her house — we entered together 
— we closed the door — and for the second time that morning. I 
took a 'bus ; at that interesting and auspicious moment, whose bliss 
was of linked sweetness long drawn out ! the door opened — a man 
appeared (Julia whispered me he was her husband's friend), he 
cried " Policeman, I have found that man in the house under sus- 
picious circumstances — I give him in charge." Policeman advanc- 
ed, seized me by the collar — and here I am in prison — but by the 
Heavens above us 1 am as innocent [kneels melo-dramatically) of all 
but having taken an omnibus— without any felonious intent. Lit- 
tle did I think that omnibus would drive me to despair. 

Grey opens door for Black, who enters. 

Black. Ha, ha, ha! I say, I've found you out— I've read the 
police sheet — you're not a manslaughter — I'm glad of it— you're 
a respectable man — so am I. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 103 



White. What then 

Black. I was pretending, for fear that you — don't you see 1 

White. Oh, yes. ^whispering) Then what cause 

Black {whispering). Love. 
White. Same here. 
Black. You don't say so? 
White. Yes, we are two gay deceivers. 
Black. So we are— ha, ha, ha ! {both laugh and shout) 
" Nix my dolly pals fake away ! " 



DKAWING THE LONG BOW. 

From Samuel Foote's Comedy of " The Liar." 
CHARACTERS. 

Old Wilding, a Wealthy Citizen. 
Young Wilding, a Lying Coxcomb. 
Pa pill ion, an English Valet. 

Scene. — Tlie Park in London in 1762. 

(Old Wilding, during the absence of his son on the continent of Europe, con- 
tracts for him a marriage with a Miss Grantham, the daughter of an im- 
mensely wealthy East India merchant, whose wealth and beauty has gained 
her a host of suitors. Not knowing the lady, Young Wilding contrives to 
make her acquaintance, while in company with a rich old maid, a Miss God- 
frey, under whose guardianship she has dwelt subsequently to her father's 
death. Through some error in ascertaining the lady's name, Young Wilding 
confuses Miss Grantham, to whom be intended to pay his court, with Miss 
Godfrey, the aged spinster, so that, when his father announces that Miss 
Grantham is willing to marry him, he invents the story of a previous marriage 
in order to break off the engagt ment and leave him free to espouse Miss God- 
frey, whom he was not aware to be an acquaintance of his affianced. To add 
to the plausibility of his fiction Young Wilding passes his valet off as a French 
marquis of an ancient house in Brittany.] 

Enter Wilding, Young Wilding, and Papillion 

Wild. There, Marquis, you must pardon me, for though Paris 
be more compact, yet surely London covers a much greater quan- 
tity. Well. Jack^ what do you say to my project, you rouge, you ? 
a fine girl, and an immense fortune ; ay, and a prudent, sensible 
wench into the bargian. 

Young W Time enough yet, sir. 

Wild. I don't see that ; you are, lad, the last of our race, and I 
should be glad to see some probability of its continuance. 



104 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Young W. Suppose, sir, you were to repeat your endeavors ; 
you have- cordially my consent. 

Wild No ; rather too late in life foi that experiment. 

Young W Why, sir, would you recommend a condition to me 
that you disapprove of yourself? 

Wild Why, sirrah, I have done my duty to the public and my 
family by producing you. Now, sir, it is incumbent on you to dis- 
charge your debt. 

Young W. In the college cant, I shall beg leave to tick a little 
longer. 

Wild. Why, then, to be serious, son, this is the very business I 
wanted to talk with you about. In a word, I wish you married ; 
and, by providing the lady for the purpose, I have proved myself 
both a father and a friend. 

Young W. Far be it from me to question your care, yet some 
preparation for so important a change 

Wild. Oh, I will allow you a week. 

Young W. A little more knowledge of the world. 

Wild. That you may study at leisure. 

Young W. Now. all Europe is in arms, my design was to serve 
my country abroad. 

Wild. You will be full as useful to it by recruiting her subjects 
at home. 

Young W You are then resolved % 

Wild. Fixed. 

Young W. Positively ? 

Wild. Peremptorily. 

Young W. No prayers 

Wild. Can move me. 

Young W (aside). How the duce shall I get out of this toil ? 
(aloud ) But suppose, sir, there should be an insurmountable objec- 
tion 1 

Wild. Oh, leave the reconciling of that to me; I am an excel- 
lent casuist. 

Young W But I say, sir, if it should be impossible to obey your 
commands 1 

Wild Impossible 1 I don't understand you. 

Young W. Oh, sir ! But on my knees first let me crave your 
pardon. 

Wild. Pardon ! for what ? 

Young W. I fear I have lost all title to your future favor. 

Wild Which way ? 

Young W I have done a deed , 

Wild Let's hear it. 

Young W. At Abingdon, in the county of Berks. 

Wild Well? 

Young W. I am 

Wild. What ? 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 105 



Young W. Already married. 
Wild. Married ! 

Pap. Married ! 

Young W. Married ! 

Wild. And without my consent 1 

Young W. Compelled— fatally forced. Oh, sir, did you but 
know all the circumstances of my sad, sad story, your rage would 
soon convert itself to pity. 

Wild. What an unlucky event ! But rise, and let me hear it 
all. 

Young W. The shame and confusion I now feel renders that 
task at present impossible ; I must, therefore, rely for the relation 
on the good offices of this. faithful friend. 

Pap. Me, sir ? I never heard one word of the matter. 

Wild. Come, Marquis, favor me with the particulars. 

Pap. Upon my word, sare, dis affair has so shock me, dat I am 
almost as incapable to tell the tale as your son. (to Young Wilding) 
Dry your tears ; what can I say, sir ? 

Young W. Anything ! Oh ! (weeps extravgantty.) 

Pap. You see, sare. 

Wild. Your kind concern at the misfortunes of my family calls 
for the most grateful acknowledgment. 

Pap. Dis is great misfortune, sans doute. 

Wild. But if you, a stranger, are thus affected, what must a 
father feel ? 

Pap. Oh, beaucoup ; a great deal more. 

Wild. But since the evil is without a remedy, let us know the 
worst at once ; well, sir, at Abingdon 1 

Pap. Yes, at Abingdon. 

Wild. In the county of Berks. 

Pap Dat is right, in the county of Berks. 

Young W. Oh, oh ! 

Wild. Ah, Jack, Jack ! are all my hopes, then— Though I dread 
to ask, yet it must be known ; who is the girl, pray, sir ? 

Pap. De girl, sir ? (aside to Young Wilding) Who shall I say, sir ? 

Young W. Anybody. 

Pap. For de girl, I can't say, upon my vard. 

Wild. Her condition 1 

Pap Pas grand condition ; dat is to be sure ; but dere is no 
help, (aside to Young Wilding) Sir, I am quite aground. 

Wild. Yes, I read ray shame in his reserve— some artful hussy. 

Pap. Dat may be Vat you call hussy 1 

Wild Or perhaps some common creature ; but I'm prepared to 
hear the worst. 

Pap. Have you no mercy ? 

Young W I'll step to your relief, sir. 

Pap. Lord, a happy deliverance ! 

Young W. Though it is almost death to speak, yet it would be 



10G AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



infamous to let the reputation of the lady suffer by my silence. 
She is, sir, of an ancient house and unblemished character. 

Wild. That is something 

Young W. And though her fortune may not be equal to the 
warm wishes of a fond father, yet 

Wild. Her name 1 

Young W. Miss L} r dia Sybtborp. 

Wild Sybthorp ? I never heard of the name ; but proceed. 

Young W. The latter end of last long vacation, I went with Sir 
James Elliot to pass a few days at a new purchase of his near Ab- 
ingdon. There, at an assembly, it was my chance to meet and 
dance with this lady. 

Wild. Is she handsome 1 

Young W. Oh, sir, more beautiful than Venus ! 

Wild. Nay, no raptures ; but go on. 

Young W, But to her beauty she adds politeness, affability, and 
discretion ; unless she forfeited that character by fixing her affec- 
tions on me. 

Wild. Modestly observed. 

Young W. I was deterred from a public declaration of my pas- 
sion, dreading the scantiness of her fortune would prove an objec- 
tion to you. Some private interviews she permitted. 

Wild. Was that so decent 1 — But love and prudence, madness 
and reason 

Young W. One fatal evening, the twentieth of September, if I 
mistake not, we were in a retired room, innocently exchanging 
mutuals vows, when her father, whom we expected to sup abroad, 
came suddenly upon us. 1 had just time to conceal myself in a 
closet 

Wild. What, unobserved by him? 

Young W. Entirely. But as my ill stars would have it, a cat, 
of whom my wife is vastly fond, had a few days before, lodged a 
litter of kitten in the same place ; I unhapjlily trod upon one of the 
brood ; which so provoked the implacable mother, that she flew at 
me with the fury of a tiger. 

Wild. I have observed those creatures are very fierce in defence 
of their young. 

Pap. I shall hate a cat as long as I live ! 

Young W. The noise roused the old gentleman's attention; ne 
opened the door, and there discovered your son 

Pap. Unlucky. 

Young W. I rushed to the door ; but fatally my foot slipt at the 
top of the stairs, and down I came tumbling to the bottom. The 
pistol in my hand went off by accident ; this alarmed her three 
brothers in the parlor, who, with all their servants, rushed with 
united force upon me. 

Wild. And so surprised you 1 

Young W. No, sir; with my sword 1 for some time made a gal- 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 107 



lant defence, and should have inevitably escaped ; but a raw-boned, 
over-grown, clumsy cook-wench struck at my sword with a kitch- 
en poker, broke it in two, and compelled me to surrender at dis- 
cretion ; the consequence of which is obvious enough. 

Wild Natural. The lady's reputation, your condition, her 
beauty, your love, all combined to make marriage an unavoidable 
measure. 

Young W. May I hope, then, you rather think me unfortunate 
than culpable 1 

Wild. "Why, your situation is a sufficient excuse; all I blame 
you for is your keeping it a secret from me. With Miss Grantham 
I shall make an awkward figure ; but the best apology is the truth. 

Young W. Certainly, sir ;- for truth may be blamed, though it 
cannot be shamed — for, as Harry Hotspur said, " Oh, while you 
live, tell the truth and shame the devil." 

Wild. Well, well ; I'll hasten and explain it to her all — Oh, Jack, 
Jack, this is a mortifying business ! 

Young W. Most melancholy. [Exit Wilding. 

Pap. I am amazed, sir, that you have so carefully concealed this 
transaction from me. 

Young W. Heyday ! what, do you believe it too ? 

Pap. Believe it ! why. is not the story of the marriage true % 

Young W. Not a syllable. 

Pap. And the cat. and the pistol, and the poker 1 

Young W. All invention. And were you really taken in ? 

Pap. Lord, sir, how was it possible to avoid it 1 Mercy on us, 
what a coMection of circumstances have you crowded together ! 

Young W. Genius, the mere effects of genius, Papillion ; but to 
deceive you, who so thoroughly know me ! 

Pap. But to prevent that for the future, could you not just give 
your humble servant a hint when you are bent upon bouncing 1 
Besides, sir, if you recollect, your fixed resolution to reform 

Young W. Ay, as to matter of fancy, the mere sport and frolic 
of invention ; but in case of necessity — why, Miss Grodfrey was at 
stake, and I was forced to use all my finesse 



108 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS, 



EXTEEMES MEET. 

From T. W. Robertson's Comedy of " Caste." 

CHARACTERS. 

George D Alroy, in Love with a Ballet Girl. 
Captain Hautree, D Alroy's Brother Officer. 
Eccles, a Drunken Father. 

Scene. — A meanly-furnished Apartment in the Suburbs of London. 

Enter George D' Alroy, followed by Hautree. Hautree comes 
slowly down to front, eyeglass in play. 

D'Alroy {hangs key on nail agaimi flat ). I told you so. The 
key was under the mat, in case I should come. The girls are not 
yet back from rehearsal. Confound rehearsals ! (crosses up.) 

Hautree. Aah ! So this is the fairy's boway 1 

D' Alroy. Yes. And this is the fairy's fireplace ! The fire is 
laid, and I'll light it ! {does so with match from mantel.) 

Hautree. And this is the abode rendered sacred by her pres- 
ence ? This is where she lives, walks, and talks — eats and drinks'? 
Does she— ah ! eat and drink 1 

D' Alroy. Yes — and heartily ! I've seen her — many a time ! 
{leans against mantel.) 

Hautree Yaas. {takes chair of table in playing with cane) So you 
are really spooney 1 Case of true love 1 hit dead ? 

D' Alroy. Right through ! (thoughtfully.) 

Hautree. True-ue % 

D' Alroy. True! (sighs) Ah ! I can't live away from her ! 

Hautree. Poor old D'Al ! So you've brought me over the wa- 
ter to 

DAlroy. Stangate t 

Hautree (nods). Stangate — to see her. For the same sort of a 
reason, when a patient is in a dangerous state, one doctor calls in 
another —doctor, to hold a consul-tation 

D' Alroy. And then — the patient dies ! 

Hautree Tell us all about it. You know I've been away. . 

D' Alroy. Well, eighteen months ago 

Hautree. Oh, cut that ! You told me all that ! How you went 
to the theatre, and saw a girl in the ballet 

D Alroy. I found her to be an amiable, good, girl 

Hautree. Of caws ! Cut that ! Credit her with all the virtues. 

D' Alroy. She works hard to support a drunken father 

Hadtree Oh ! father drunken ? So— the — ah — father does 
not — inherit the daughter's virtue 1 

D' Alroy. No ! (dashes his hand down) I hate him ! 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 109 



Hautree. Quite right. 

D'Alroy. She — that is, Esther — is also very good to a younger 
sister. 

Hautree. Younger sister also angelic, amiable, and accom- 
plished 1 

D'alroy. Nein ! Good enough ! Got a temper ! Large tem- 
per ! Well, after some difficulty, I managed to get to speak with 
her, Esther, to see her to her door 

Hautree. I know. Pastiy-cooks, Richmond dinner and — all that 
sawt of thing ! 

D Alroy. You" re too fast, Hautree. Pastry-cooks, yes. Rich- 
mond dinners, no ! . The fact is, your knowledge of the" world fifty 
yards around barracks, misleads you. I saw her every day. I 
fell in love, and kept on falling — falling — falling — till I thought 
I never would reach the bottom. Then I met you. 

Hautree Yaas. I thought it only an amourette, when you 
told me. It was a fire — a conflagration ; subdue it. I saw it was a 
case, and I advised you to try — dissipation. 

D'Alroy. I did try dissipation. 

Hautree. With what success 1 

D'Alroy. None ! It gave mean acning head and a sore heart ! 

Hautree. Try foreign travel. "Absence makes the heart grow " 
stronger Get leave and cut away ! 

D'Alroy. I did get leave, and cut away. While I was away, I 
was miserable, {at fireplace) I found 1 was a goner coon than 
ever. 

Hautree. Then, what is to be done ? 

D'Alroy. 1 don't know. I asked you to come and see her. 

Hautree. Now, look here, D'Alroy ! Of course you are not so 
soft as to think of marriage < You know what your mother is — 
and what she would think of it. You will behave propeily— with 
a proper regard for the world and all that sort of thing — or do the 
other thing. The-ah girl is nice enough no doubt, for her station, 
but you can't dream of making her Mrs. D'Alroy ! 

D'Alroy. Why not ' {sharply) What's to prevent me 1 

Hautree. The social laws — so good— of Caste ! The inexorable 
laws of Caste ! 

D 1 Alroy. My dear Art ! 

Hautree. My dear D'Al ! The other sort of thing— the mar- 
riages with common people, is all very well in novels, and plays on 
the stage, where the people don't exist. There's no harm done, 
and it's sometimes interesting. But real people, real mothers, 
real relations, real connections, in real life, it's quite another mat- 
ter. It's utter social and personal annihilation ! 

D'Alroy {thoughtfully). As for my mother, I never thought of 
her. 

Hautree. Of course not ! Lovers are so beastly selfish. 



110 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



D'Alroy. My father died when I was three years old, and my 
mother married before I was six. Married a Frenchman. 

Hautkeb. A nobleman of the most ancient family — of equal 
blood to her own. She obeyed the laws imposed by Caste. 

D Alroy. Caste again ! That caused a separation between us. 
My brother lives abroad and I do not see him. I confess that as 
to my mother, 1 — I look upon her with a kind of superstitious 
awe ! 

Hautree Ya-as ! She is a sort of Grand Brahmin Priestess ! 

D Alroy. Just so. Now I know I am a fool— I have a thick 
tongue and a lisp — which makes me appear more of a fool than 
I am You are clever, Arthur, perhaps a little too clever ! You 
are paying your devoir*, {comes by table, smiling) 1 believe that is the 
correct word ] paying your devoirs to Florence Carberry, daughter 
of the Countess. She is of higher rank than you. Is she to for- 
get Caste ] 

Hautree. Ah ! that argument does not apply ! 

D'Alroy {at mantel). " True hearts are more than coronets, and 
simple faith than Norman blood ! " 

Hautree. Oh, cut that ! If you are a-«oino to look at it from 
the point of view of poetry — going oft to No Man's Land, I won't 
follow you ! 

D Alroy {firmly). No gentleman can be ashamed of the woman 
he loves ! Whatever her original station, he raises her to the same 
position he holds himself ! 

Hautree. Ya-as ! He raises her — her ! But, her connections, 
but, her relations ! How about them ! voice of Eccles off) Polly ! 
{angrily) Polly ! Why the {enters) devil couldn't you 

Hautree rises, D'Alroy goes up, biting his lips. 

Eccles. Mr. D'Alroy, (takes hat off) I— I didn't see you. Good 
evening, sir ! The same to you and many of them ! 

D'Alroy {to Hautree). This is the father. 

Hautree (as'de) The drunken father ! Ah ! 

D Alroy {to Eccles) I suppose Miss Esther and her sister have 
not yet returned from rehearsal 1 

Eccles (shuffles down). Not yet, sir. I expec' 'em in every min- 
ute. I hopes you 'ave been quite well since I seed you last? 

D'Alroy Quite, thank you ! By-the-by, this is a friend of mine, 
1 took the lieberty of bringing with me. 

Eccles (bows). Any friend of the Honorable Mr. D'Alroy— I'm 
sue ! 

D' Alioy. And how have you been, Mr. Eccles ? 

Eccles. Well, sir — (sighs) I haven't been the thing at all. My 
'ealth and spirits is broken. I'm not the man I used to be— I'm 
not accustomed to this sort of life. Ah ' gentlemen, I'm a man 
what has seen better days — most like gone forever ! It's a drefful 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. Ill 



thing for a man at ray tini3 of life to look back on better days- 
gone raost like forever ! 

D Alroy. I dessay. 

Eccles. Once proud and prosperous, now poor and lowly ! Once 
a 'spectable tradesman, 1 am forced by the pressure of circum- 
stances over which l have no control, to seek for work and not to 
find it. 

D'Alroy. I dessay. 

Eccles. But the poor and lowly is often hardly used. What 
chance has a working man 1 

Hautree {aside). None ! when he won't work ! 

Eccles. I'm sorry, gentlemen, I can't offer you any refresh- 
ments. Ah! luxury and me has long been strangers— long been 
strangers ! 

D'Alroy. Sorry to hear your misfortunes, Mr. Eccles ! 

Eccles. Ah, sir ! I've had many on em — many on 'em, 

D Alroy {comes to front to give Eccles a coin). Perhaps you will 
permit me to offer you a trifling loan ^ 

Eccles [smiles, etc.) You're a gentleman, Mr. D'Alroy! a real 
gentleman ! h'anybody can tell a real gentleman with half a sov- 
ereign ! I mean, with half an h'eye ! A real gentleman, and un- 
derstands the nateral emotions of the working-man ! Poverty ! — 
poverty's a thing that should be encouraged ! and pride should be 
put down by the— the strong hand of pecooniary necessity ! Thank 
'eavens, we are all equal in mind and feelings ! 

Hautree ( aside). 1 should hope not. 

Eccles (abruptly) I've a neighbor I want to speak to a-waitin' 
for me h'outside. (goes up) The gals'll be in presently. Sorry to 
leave you, gentlemen — sorry to leave you ! 

D'Alroy. Don't mention it ! 

Eccles. But business is business ! Good evening, gentlemen. 
Good evening, gentlemen, good evening ! (claps his hat on triumph- 
anthf.) [Exit. 

Hautree (railing). So this is Papa Eccles! But "true hearts 
are more than coronets, and simple faith than Norman blood." 
(D'Alroy in chair, by table) Poor fellow ! 1 wonder what the most 
noble your mother the Marquise de St. Maur would think of Papa 
Eccles ? 

D'Alroy. Cut that ! 

Hautree Come, come, admit that there is something in Caste ! 
Wed in the family of that drunkard, that rinsing of stale beer, 
thai walking tap-room ! You've run too far ! pull up. Try the 
foreign tour ! Go out for a spin in Central America, and forget 
her. 

D'Alroy. Can't. 

Hautree. You'll be wretched and miserable with her. 

D'Alroy. I'd rather be wretched with her than miserable with- 
out her. (Hautree sits on edge of table, takes cigar from case.) 



112 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS 



D'Alroy ( gently). Don't smoke here. 

Hautree {carelessly, cigar in mouth). Why not ? 

D'Alroy. She will be coming in directly. 

Hautree yvery carelessly). I don't think sliell mind ! 

D'Alroy (sternly). But I do ! Do you smoke before Florenoe 
Carberry 1 

Hautree (tosses cigar away, rises, goes up). Ah ! my dear fellow, 
you're suffering from a fit of the morals ! 

D'Alroy. What's that ? 

Hautree. The morals — the morals is a disease — like the — mea- 
sles : It attacks the young and innocent ! 

D'Alroy {bitterly). You talk like Mephistopheles, without his 
cleverness ' (rises, goes up to window.) 

Hautree (front). Well, 1 don't pretend to be a particularly 
good sort of fellow — and I don't pretend to be a particularly bad 
sort of fellow ! I suppose I am about the average standard sort 
of fellow ! But I don't like to let a friend go downhill to the devil, 
and not try to put the drag on ! Here's a girl of very humble sta- 
tion —has a drunken father who won't work, and likes to have 
money, no matter how he gets it. Can't this be arranged somehow 
or other ? 

D Alroy {at window). Cut that ! Let's go out and meet them. 



LIKE MASTER LIKE MAN. 

From Charles Selby's Farce of " The Bonnie Fish Wife." 

CHARACTERS. 

Sir Hiccouy Heartycheer, a Gentleman of the Olden Time. 
Mr. Wildoates Heartycheer, a Gentleman of the Period. 
Gaiters, a Valet of the Period. 

Scene. — A Handsome Clmmber in a Country House. 

Enter Sir Hiccory Heartycheer, looking at his watch. 

Hearty. The 10.20 express must have come in an hour ago, and 
no news of Wildoates ! Really, the disrespect with which we poor 
old governors are treated by our sons, is abominable ! In my 
young days I'd as soon have thought of keeping the king waiting 
as my father ; but the railroads and free trade have overturned all 
the good old fashions, (knock and ring without) Ah, there he is at 
last ! My dear boy — {going, and seizing the hand of) 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. Ill 



Gaiters, who enters. 

Eh ? Zounds ! who the devil are you 1 

Gaiters. Gaiters, sir. {bowing eccentrically} Mr. Wildoates' gen- 
tleman, sir ; he sent me on by the express, to see his dressing-room 
made comfortable, and to inform you that in obedience to the 
command conveyed in your letter of the 30th ultimo, he lost no 
time in leaving Florence, and hastening to London. He travels by 
the 7.20 mixed, {looking at his watch) He is therefore due — accidents 
excepted— in three minutes and a half, London time (botes.) 

Hearty, {returning the boiv). Thank you, sir. {aside) To judge by 
the man, the master must have become a pretty considerable of a 
puppy ! Have you been long in my son's service, Mr. 

Gait, {bowing). Gaiters, sir.' (Sir Hiccory gravely returns bow) I 
took office in Paris, at the beginning of last year. 

Hearty, (aside, looking at him with astonishment). Took office ! 
Oh, dear! 

Gait. Mr Wildoates was without a gentleman, owing to the indi- 
vidual who accompanied him from England having been indiscreet 
enough to qualify himself for the galleys, by giving way to a mo- 
nomaniacal impulse in regard to the appropriation of a set of dia- 
mond shirt studs. Lord Peterwhacky, my then principal, took 
pity on my present patron's forlorn condition, and spared me to 
him, an immense sacrifice, for which Mr. Wildoates professes 
himself grateful, {botes, and turns tip and examines picture with eye- 
glass.) 

Hearty. Ah ! {returning bow, aside) c: Principal— patron — sacri- 
fice." Oh lord, oh lord ! what will the world be a hundred years 
hence 1 I ve no doubt this gentleman is so thoroughly dignified 
and independent, he would resign his keys on the slightest hint of 
cold mutton, or an infringement of his perquisites. Your master 
— 1 beg pardon, your principal— very gay at Florence, Mr. 

Gait, {bowing). Gaiters, sir. (Sir Hiccory returns bow) To say 
the truth, we were very triste there — very triste, indeed ! Opera, 
very second rate, the ballet execrable, the heat intolerable, the 
malaria alarming ! 

Hearty. Ah ! indeed ! 

Gait We were pretty comfortable at Vienna — so we were at Ba- 
den, and Berlin - Milan was dullish. 

Hearty. [ m sorry for that ! 

Gait. Madrid respectable, Cadiz so-so, Gibraltar jolly, very jolly ; 
a little too drunky, but cheerful, very cheerful. 

Hearty. Ah, I'm glad to hear that ! 

Gait. Granada, but for the Alhambra, dismal to the last degree. 
No, sir, Paris was our paradise ! in fact, we were so much in love 
with it, that we had serious thoughts of finishing there. 

Hbarty. Finishing there ? I don't understand. 



114 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Gait. Pere la Chaise, sir. Charming place, sir, beats the Campo 
Santo, at Naples, and our Kensal, by chalks. 

Heauty. Ah— plenty of gayety, and plenty of ladies — eh, Mr. 
Gaiters ! 

Gait. A few, sir — cela va sans dire, but nothing serious. 

Hearty. Oh, nothing serious ! 

Gait. No ; we flirt, of course— that is expected of us ; but we are 
not marrying men ! 

Hearty. Ah ! you are not marrying men 1 

Gait, y foppishly). No, no ; we're too wide awake for that. 

Hearty, {aside). Oh lord, oh lord — the world's turning topsy tur- 
vy — I can feel it shake, (a knock and ring. ) 

Gait. Mr. Wildoates, sir, excuse me, I must attend to our little 
arrangements. [Makes a series of eccentric bows, and exits. 

Hearty Well, of all the puppies! I'm beginning to get very 
nervous about rny boy. I'm afraid his tour on the continent has 
given him ideas that will interfere with my little arrangements — 
the obedient, pliable boy, may have returned a self-willed, imprac- 
ticable man, in which case I 

Wildoates (without). Well, Mary, my little rosebud, how do you 
do 1 as pretty as ever ! Jane, you darling, I must have a kiss, (a 
scuffle without.) 

Hearty. Kissing the housemaids to begin with — he wouldn't 
have done that when he went away. 

Wild, (without). Hullo, Popkins, old fellow, how are you? gov- 
ernor in the library ? all right. 

Enter Wildoates. 

My dear father, how are you 1 looking as rosy and as hearty — 
(slapping him on the back) Chest all right — toes all right — head all 
right — digestion all right ? (cordially shaking both his hands) Glad to 
see you again, sir D3ar dad quite well V Dear sir, quite well? 

Hkarty. Heart} 7 , hearty, lad, hearty as a buck — you're looking 
well, too— rather thinnish, though — raking, you rogue, raking— 
late hours — champagne suppers, eh ? eh ? you wild rascal. 

Wild. Oh, no, sir— study— hard study— always at my books, 
reading up for a degree. I'm already a Licentiate of Padua, Doc- 
tor of Divinity at Berlin, Bachelor of Metaphysics at Paris 

Hearty. And Master of Arts all over the continent. I've heard 
of you, you aay young dog. Well, we.l, youth will have its fling. 
(aside, joyously) I've had mine. You've come safely through the 
fire, and have, I hope, learned wisdom. Now, can you guess why 
I sent for you in such a hurry 1 

Wild. Haven't the scintillation of a suspicion. The moment I 
received your letter, as in duty bound, I obeyed it on the instant — 
called for my rascal, told him to pack up my portmanteau, threw 
myself there and then into the train, travelled day and night, and 
here I am, like a dutiful son, to receive your commands. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 115 



Hearty, (shaking hands). That's right, that's right, my own good 
affectionate b<>y. I confess I had a few misgivings about you just 
now. Your puppy of a servant led me to expect a *ra veiling cox- 
comb ; but I am most agreeably mistaken ; you are still the same 
simple minded, obedient boy you were before you started. 

Wild. Yes, sir— yes, sir. (aside) What's in the wind I wonder — 
something awkward, I'll bet a pony. 

Hearty Ahem ! you see. Wildy, I'm growing old 

Wild. Old ! (laughing) Ninety, sir, ninety — that's our age. 
Your father reached it, so shall I, I hope ; and so will you — you've 
thirty years to the good yet — talk of growing old ! I'm the codger,, 
not vou ! you've lived only days — I've sat up at nights. 

Hearty. Eh 1 

Wild. Studying — studying mathematics and languages. You 
know whatLnrd Bacon says, (repeating solemnly) 

" The best of all ways, to lengthen our days, 
Is to steal a few hours from the night." 

Hearty, (imitating his tone). " My dear." You may as well 
finish the line, {repeating gayly) 

" Then awake, the heavens look bright, my dear, 
It's never too late for delight, my dear." 
Ha, ha, ha ! You sly rogue ! you see I know more about your 
Lord Bacon than you suspected ! but to business. Strong and 
hearty as I am happy to say I am at present, dear boy, I may be 
taken from you suddenly ; so to make all sure with regard to the 
baronetcy, and at the same time secure your happiness, I have de- 
termined to give you a wife. 

Wild, (astonished) Aw — w — wife, sir 1 

Hearty. Yes ; it is time you should be settled ; and as I should 
not die happy in an uncertainty regarding the succession of the 
family honors at your decease, I sent for you to tell you that [ 
have a match in my eye for you that is in every way eligible. To 
keep you no longer in suspense, it is the daughter of our neighbor 
in Devonshire — Miss Thistledown. 

Wild, (in great astonishment and disgust). Miss Thistledown ! 
Miss Thistledown ! Oh surely, sir, you must be joking. My 
greatest antipathy from boyhood — an ugly, red-haired, gawky hoy- 
den. I would as soon think of marrying a Hottentot or a Choctaw 
Indian ! 

Hearty. What ! do you mean to say that you will oppose the 
wishes of your father ? 

Wild. On all other points I will implicitly obey you, sir, but on 
this, involviug as it does the happiness or misery of my life ; 
for jive me, sir, if I respectfully, but positively refuse. 

Hearty, (in a great rage). What, what, what ! when I tell you I 
insist ? 

Wild. Yes, sir ! I cannot do so great a wrong to my feelings 
and principles. 



116 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Hearty. " feelings and principles." Oh, lord ! oh, lord ! 
What an awful world. I, your father — your kind, indulgent, affec- 
tionate father, tell you it is the last wish of my life ; that I cannot 
die happy without seeing that wish accomplished, and you, who 
ought to jump mast high at the very thought of such a splendid alli- 
ance, not only in the most coldblooded, heartless manner abuse the 
young lady, but refuse, i sarcastically) " respectfully but positively " 
refuse her. Zounds ! look you, sir, I cati put up with a great deal, 
but, the mildest nature could not endure this. Marry her you 
must and shall. Hold your tongue, hold your tongue ! dont pre- 
sume to answer — shall — that's the word ! (taking the stage in a great 
rage) Shall, shall, shall ! (a knock and ring) There she is come by 
appointment — believing you to be still the same good, obedient 
young man you used to be, I have arranged all the preliminaries 
of the match — the settlements are drawn up, the wedding dresses 
made, the breakfast ordered, invitations sent out ; in short, next 
Wednesday is the wedding. 

Wild Sir sir. sir ! 

Hearty, (violently, choking with rage). Hold your tongue, hold your 
tongue ! Don't dare to interrupt me, sir. Hold your tongue ! 
Next Wednesday, sir— next Wednesday ! Join your bride in the 
drawing-room in ten minutes, sir — ten minutes — (looking at his 
toatch) not a second later or —or — (violently) I'll marry again and 
cut you out of the succession. The entail, sir — the entail— I can 
cut off that. I can't keep you out of the title, but the estate, sir — 
the estate — that I can bestow where I please— ten minutes, sir — 
ten minutes. [Exit in a great rage. 

Wild Ten seconds will amply suffice for my determination. 
(calling) Gaiters ! Marry that hyena — oh, no, no ! 

Enter Gaiters. 

Gattkrs. Call, sir 1 

Wild. Portmanteau — cab — Great Northern — Scotland. 

Gait. Yes, sir — lightning, sir. [Exit. 

Wild. Force me to marry a woman I detest — no, no, my pep- 
pery old dad, you are mistaken in your calculations. Sooner than 
marry that awful creature, I'd forfeit everything in the world. 
Why, she's hideous — positively hideous — at least, she was so seven 
years, ago, when I last saw her. How l should be laughed at' by 
my continental friends. The man who has defied the reigning 
beauties of half the capitals in Europe, who might have married a 
duchess or a marchioness, to link himself to red hair, high cheek- 
bones, pigs' eyes, and everything else that's disagreeable. No, no, 
I'll go to Scotland — a week or two's shooting in the Highlands will 
cool down my indignation. Well, Gaiters ] 

Enter Gaiters. 
Gaitbbs. In, sir — things in portmanteau, and portmanteau in 
cab. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 117 



Wild. That's your sort, {writes on a card) Knock at the drawing- 
room door, give my father that card, and follow me to the cab with- 
out waiting an instant. 

Gait, {crosses). Yes, sir — lightning, sir. [Exit. 

Wild. And now, most amiable of " parients." 1 wish you a good 
morning. 

Enter Gaiters. 

Gait. All right, sir — old partv following in a passio 
Wild. Quick, then, for the Highlands! 
Gait. Yes, sir— double quick — lightning, sir. 

[Exeunt Wildoates and Gaiters. 



IN THE TIGEE'S DEN. 

From the Farce of " Taming a Tiger." 
CHARACTERS. 

Charles Beeswixg, a Traveller in Wines. 

Mr Chili Chutnee, a Retired Bengal Merchant. 

Jacob Mutter, his Servant. 

Sc«5E. -An apartment in the Jwuseof Mr. Chutnee. Furniture good, 
but old fashioned. 

Jacob discovered dusting, etc., humming an air. A loud laugh heard of 
workmen at back. 

Jacob. Good gracious ! I thought it was master ! though there's 
little danger of being troubled with him before nine o'clock, as he's 
fast asleep — with one eye open — like all wild blasts. He certain- 
ly belongs to that class of animals, and no mistake He's a brute, 
a perfect tiger ; but that's not very surprising, when we recollect 
that he was born, bred, and brought up in Bengal ; which country 
I've heard say produces the finest tigers in the world. What can 
make him so savage t His love of solitude, perhaps. I declare it's 
horrid to see a person shunning all mankind in such a way ; and 
when I reflect that I've been here for six months, in this animal's 
cage — although it certainly is a cage in which one gets some nice 
pickings, still I'm tired of it. I am only allowed out once a fort- 
night, and all the rest of the time cooped up within four walls. It's 
horrible ! I won't stand it any longer, I'm resolved 111 give him 
warning ! I'll do it, the very first time I catch him in a good hu- 
mor ; although he is a tiger on two legs, Tm not afraid of him. 

Chutnee [catting without). Jacob! 

Jacob {trembling). Eh ! here he comes. Now for it I 



118 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



3t(er Chutnbb. 

Chut, {always brusquely and sharply). Jacob! 

Jacob Here, sir. 

Chut. What does all this singing and laughing mean ? 

Jacob. Laughing, sir! (seriously) There's nobody laughing here, 
sir. 

Chut. Where then ? (loud laughing and singing Jieard at a short dis- 
tance) Do you hear that 1 

Jacob Oh, I see ! Don't you know, sir? 

Chut. Know what 7 

Jacob. Old Mr. Tomkins, your landlord, has sent a lot of men to 
whitewash the ceilings. 

Chut. What? 

Jacob And new paper the rooms. 

Chut What? 

Jacob. And repair the roof. 

Chut. What? 

Jacob. And paint the house. 

Chut. What ! — whitewash, paint, paper ! I won't hare it. I 
didn t ask him to do it. It shan't be done ! I'll remain as I am. 

Jacob. But. sir, for all the nine years you have been here it has 
never been touched, and 

Chut. Hold your tongue, {crosses) The animal ! to dare to white- 
wash, paper, and paint me ' Suppose the rooms are a little brown, 
I like 'em ! Go to old Tomkins, tell him to take all his workmen 
away instantly. I give him till ten o'clock ; if they are not gone by 
that time, I'll pitch .the first one I meet into the fish-pond that 
stands at the bottom of my garden ! Well, why don't you go 1 

Jacob. Hem ! — the fact is, sir, I only wanted to say 

Chut. What ? 

Jacob Pray don't be angry, sir, I only wish 

Chut. What 1 

Jacob. To— to — to quit your service, sir. 

Chut. Quit my service ? 

Jacob And if you will have the kindness to discharge me and 
get rid of me as soon as possible — I should forever be obliged to 
you, sir. 

Chut. Quit my service 1 Never ! never ! not that I can possibly 
be worse off; for a more idle vagabond never existed, and I've a 
horror of you, but still greater horror of fresh faces. I hate 'em 
as cordially as I hate fresh paint, fresh paper, fresh whitewash, so 
you will live and die in my service. 

Jacob. Well, sir, I have no fault to find, I'm sure, only you 
make a regular jail of the house. 

Chut, (aside). And you want to change it for another jail. 

Jacob {astonished). Eh 7 

Chut. Close by the Town Hall there'* one, where they receive 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 119 



and provide board and lodgings for servants who steal their mas- 
ter's wine. 

Jacob {aside). How the devil did he know that ? 

Chut. If you prefer it, I'll have a room prepared for you there. 

Jacob. Oh, lord ! No, no, sir. ( goes up ) 

Chut. Well, well, say no more about it. You are sorry for 
what you've said, so there let the matter end. is my daughter 
awake t 

Jacob. Yes, sir, Miss Arabella is in the drawing-room. 

Chut, {aside, his whole manmr changing to one of aff<ction). Bless 
her dear heart, I'll go and give her a kiss, {gruffly) Mind, I'm at 
home to nobody. 

Jacob. I know, sir. I'll take care. 

Chut. What whether I- will or not 1 Paper, paint, white- 
wash me ! {thrusting open door exits grumbling.) 

Jacob. As the garden gate is open, I'll lock this door to raakfc 
all sure, (locks door in flat). There, that'll do (a knock at the doorS 
Eh 1 some one knocks, (knock again) Who can it be 1 {knock again) 
One of the workmen, perhaps, (knock again — approaching door) Who's 
there ? 

eeswing {outside). This is Mr. Chutnee's ? 

Jacob. He's not at home '. 

Bees, {outside). 1 know it. 

Jacob. He never is ! 

Bees, t know it ; I wish to speak to his wife. 

Jacob. He's a widower ! • 

Bees. To his mother. 

Jacob. She's dead, too ! 

Bees. To his housekeeper, then. 

Jacob. His hou>ekeeper ! What the deuce can he want with a 
housekeeper 1 

Bees. Open the door, it is of great consequence. 

Jacob. He seems a civil spoken person, Fll risk it, for once. 
{opens door.) 

Enter Beeswixg. 

Bees, (gayly). So here I am, then, in the Tiger's lair. This is his 
den. 

Jacob. Why, bless me, if it isn't Mr. Beeswing. 

Bees Eh % what, Jacob t 

Jacob. The wine merchant's traveller ! 

Bees. Our lively waiter of the Commercial at Cheltenham, (aside) 
This is lucky ! 

Jacob. Good gracious, Mr. Beeswing, what on earth brings you 
here ? 

Bees. Business, Jacob ! I have come to tickle your master's 
liquid sensibility ! Do you take ? 

Jacob. Ob, yes ! But do you know him ? 



120 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Bees. By reputation only ; a queer fish, they say. 

Jacob Fish ! He's a beast, Mr. Beeswing, a regular ferocious 
wild beast ! 

Bees. Never mind, I'll stir him up with a long pole. 

Jacob. If you take my advice, you'll make your way out of his 
house as soon as possible ! 

Bees. Never ! my honor's engaged in the affair ! 

Jacob. How 1 

Bees. Well, a party of sixteen of us, all good men and true, 
some of the choicest spirits on the road, were dining together yes- 
terday, at the Lamb ! 1 needn't tell you we were all well primed. 

Jacob. No, you needn't tell me that. 

Bees. And when Aurora with her rosy fingers was opening her 
shutters 

Jacob. Aurora ! Have they got a new chambermaid, then — has 
Betty lett 1 

Bees. Bless your unsophisticated innocence! you are not my- 
thological, Jacob. 

Jacob. No, sir, but you said Aurora— so I thought 

Bees. Of course you did. But Aurora, at this period of the 
year, means half-past three o'clock in the morning, Jacob. 

Jacob \trying to comprehend, in vain). Oh ! Ah • Yes! 

Bees. Well, about half-past three this morning, while we were 
mutually recounting our exploits and successes, some, while con- 
fessing their defeats, mentioned a certain Mr. Chili Chutnee, to 
whom no one has ever been able to make a sale, and, from whom 
more than one has had some difficulty in escaping with a whole 
skin, (imitating) " And I'll bet a case of champagne," said old Jack 
Barker— you recollect old Jack, with his mulberry cheeks, and his 
raspberry nose, and his gooseberry eyes, his comedy face, and his 
tragedj 7 voice ? 

Jacob ^laughing). Oh, don't I ! 

Bees (continuing his imitation^. " I'll bet a case of champagne," 
said old Jack, " that even Charley Beeswing, clever as he is— the 
flower of the vast flock of commercial travellers, as we all allow him 
to be —I'll bet a case of champagne that even he makes a failure 
with old Chutnee ; and if anybody will bet me two cases to one. I'll 
take it, that he gets his bones broken into the bargain." "Done," 
said I, :< in both events," — and the wager was noted down amid 
hurrahs of enthusiasm — and here I am. 

Jacob. I shouldn' t like to be in your place. I tell you, he is a 
perfect wild beast 

Bees. I've travelled all over the world in my time, and cut wild 
beasts' claws of all sorts and sizes. I'll tame him. 

Jacob. I don't think it. 

Bees We shall see. After all, what do I risk 1 My corpus— 
my edifice Well, it is mine ! I don't hire it ; I hold the fee simple 
of it ; I have a right to dispose of it as I please. I have relations, 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 121 



it is true, scattered here and there about the world, like dandelions 
in a hayrield ; but there isn t one of 'em. if my nose was bleeding, 
would lend me a key to put down my back to stop it. 1 have a 
rich old bachelor uncle in this very town, and yet the animal would 
never even give me an order for a dozen of port, although he drinks 
three bottles every day of his !ife ; so if 1 choose to run a hazard, 
what is it to anybody * 

Jacob. Oh, if you don't care about it. 

Bees. You are wrong, I do care to a certain extent. But what 
I care for infinitely more, is to preserve my reputation as the first 
man ; the cleverest fellow in my profession. Where is this Bengal 
Tiger ! 

Jacob. With his daughter in the next room. 

Bees. Oh, he has a daughter, has he 1 The Mohican ! Well, 
I'll wait here till he comes, (sits at table) Jacob, you haven't got a 
long pole, have you 1 

Jacob. No, sir, but here's this morning's paper. 

Chutnee (without). Where's to-day's Times, Jacob 1 

Jacob. Oh. mercy, there he is ! 

Bees. Bravo ! the overture has struck up— the opera is about to 
begin. It opens with a duet between the trombone and the first 
fiddle, so you may take your flute out of the orchestra, Jacob. 

Jacob. 1 will. [Exit Jacob. 

Chutnee enters, angrily. 

Chut. Don't you hear me, you lazy humbug ? where's my to- 
day's Times 1 

Bees. ( presenting it). There it is 1 

Chut, (astounded). A stranger here ? 

Bees, (calmly). Some very interesting news this morning, (intro- 
ducing a line or two about whatever happens to he the news of the day.) 

Chut, (always brusquely). Where do you come from 1 Who do 
you want ! 

Bees. I want Mr. Chili Chutnee. 

Chut. Well, my name is Chutnee— well 1 

Bees. I come to propose a matter of business to you. 

Chut. I have left off business these ten years. 

Bees, (aside). I'll smooth the animal down a little, (aloud) I am 
perfectly aware of that, sir ; so brilliant a star as the house of 
Chutnee and Co. could not disappear from the commercial firma- 
ment without its being remarked at the observatory. 

Chut, (aside). That s flattery ! This fellow is a humbug. 

Bees (aside). He don't bite — he looks as if he could. 

Chut. I'm not easily deceived— I'm up to snuff, sir. 

Bees, (producing muff-box). Try that, you'll find it good. 

Chut. < pushing \t aw y). No, thank you ; be so good as to let 
me know plainly, what you want 1 



122 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Bees, {aside). Don't like flattery, eh 7 {aloud) Well, then, I'll tell 
you plainly, I want to make a plant on you. 

Chut. What 1 

Bees. You asked me to speak plainly— I want to sell you six 
dozea of champagne, which a customer has returned on my hands, 
hecause he says it is manufactured from gooseberries. 

Chut. What! Another of the infernal travelling wine mer- 
chants. Hark ye, you're a new hand, 1 fancy, or you must have 
heard of the sort of treatment you gentry usually meet with from 
me. 

Bees. May I inquire its nature ? 

Chut. 1 11 set my dogs at you ! 

Bees, {coolly). Oh, indeed ! Have you any good ones 1 I should 
like to see them. I have dealt in dogs ; in fact, I have dealt in al- 
most everything in my time. What breed are they 1 

Chut. Bull-dogs, sir ! 

Bees And I'm sure well-bred with so well-bred a master. 

Chut. Death and the devil ! 

Bees. The bull-dog is a most interesting animal ; what a mouth 
he has — what a jaw — what strength ! I knew one, sir, who would 
have lifted you off the ground by the hair of your head, in this 
way (extends his arm as if to catch CJhuntee by the hair, he retreats to 
corner. ) 

Chut. Hands off, if you expect to leave this room alive. 

Bees. Leave this room alive ! of course I do. 

Chut. You had better make haste, then. 

Bees. Why so 1 do you suppose I credit all the queer stories they 
tell about you 1 I don't believe you're a bit more ferocious than 
other people ; they were afraid of you — I'm not ; that's all the dif- 
ference. 

Chut. In a word, sir, I believe I am master in my own house ; 
you have thrust yourself in, unasked, and I have a perfect right 
to 

Bees. Tell me to leave it ; so you have, with politeness. 

Chut. Politeness to a But so be it. Sir, 1 have not the 

honor to know you — I have no wish to make your acquaintance. 
You come to offer to sell me bad champagne ; I don't want any 
champague. I hope that is polite 1 so, now be kind enough to 
quit my premises. 

Bees. Sir, I can refuse nothing to so well bred a bull-dog — gen-, 
tlenian, I mean — and have the honor to wish you a very good niorn- 

Chut. {aside). A good riddance. The impudent villain ! 

Bees, {aside as he goes). If you think you have got rid of me, you 
old rhinoceros, you are vastly m staken. Good morning, Chutnee ; 
pray don't trouble yourself to come to the door. You are a good, 
hearted fellow, I'm sure, Chili ! only a little too warm, Chili — Ta* 
ta! Ta, ta ! [Exit Beeswing. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 123 



Chut That Is certainly the most impudent fellow I ever met 
with. I could scarcely keep myself from strangling him I hate 
such impudent puppies ! I hate everybody — everybody except my 
daughter, my darling Arabella, and her I'll lock up —I'll never let 
her leave the house again. 



NOB AND SNOB. 

From T. W. Robertson's Comedy of " Society." 
CHARACTERS. 

Sidney Da'ryl, a Literary Lawyer. 
Tom Stylos, a Journalist. 
Chodd, Sr., a Plebeian. 
Chodd, Jr., a Bogus Sivell. 

Scene. — Sidney Daryls chambers, in Lincoln'' s Inn ; the room to pre- 
sent the appearance of belonging to a sporting literary barrister, 
books, pictures, whips, the mirror stuck full of cards {painted on 
cloth) ; a table, chairs, etc. 

Enter Tom Stylus, Chodd, Jr., and Chodd, Sr. 

Chodd. Jr. (looking at watch). Ten minutes to twelve, eh, guv ? 

Tom. Late into bed ; up after he oughter ; look out for brandy 
and sobering water (speaks off) Tell, Mr. Daryl two gentlemen wish 
to see him on particular business. 

C. Jr. \ a supercilious, bad svjell — glass in eye, hooked stick, vulgar and 
uneasy). So this is an author's crib — is it 1 don't think much of it, 
eh, guv ? 

Chodd, Sr. (a mnmon old man, with a dialect). Seems comfortable 
enough to me, Johnny. 

C. Jr. D>n t call me Johnny ! I hope he won't be long ! (looking 
at watch) Don't seem to me the right sort of thing, for two gentle- 
men to be kept waiting for a man they are going to employ. 

C Sr. Gently, Johnny. (Chodd, Jr ; looks annoyed) I mean gently 
without the Johnny. Mister 

Tom Daryl — Sidney Daryl ! 

C. Sr. Daryl d.dn't know as we was coming ! 

C. Jr. (rudely to Tom). Why didn't you let him know ? 

Tom {fiercely). How the devil could III didn't see you till last 
nighi. (Chodd, Jr., retires into himself) You'll find Sidney Daryl 
just the man for you ; j oung, full of talent, what I was thirty years 
ago ; — I'm old now, and not full of talent, if ever I was ; Ive emp- 
tied rnyself ; I've missed my tip. You see I wasn't a swell — he is ! 

C. Jr. A swell — what, a man who writes for his living ] 



124 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS 



Enter Sidney Daryl in morning jacket. 

Sidney. Sorry to have detained you ; how are you Tom ? (Tom 
and Chodd, Sr., rise, Chodd, Jr., sits on table and sucks cane.) 

C. Sr. Not at all ! 

C. Jr. {with watch). Fifteen minutes. 

Sid. [handing chair to Chodd, Jr. J. Take a chair ! 

C. Jr. This'll do. 

Sid. But you're sitting on the steel pens. 

Tom. Dangerous things ! pens. (Chodd, Jr., takes a chair.) 

Sid Yes ! loaded with ink, percussion powder's nothing to 'em. 

C. Jr. We came here to talk business. 

Sid. Now, gentlemen, I am — (crossing behind table.) 

Tom. Then I'll begin, — first let me introduce Mr. Sidney Daryl 
to Mr. John Chodd of Songgerston, also to Mr. John Chodd, Jr., 
of the same place ; Mr. John Chodd of Snoggerston is very rich ; he 
made a fortune by 

C. Sit. No ! my brother Joe made a fortune in Australey, by gold 
digging and then spec'lating ; which he then died, and left all to 
me. 

C. Jr. (aside). Guv, cut it ! 

C. Sr. I shan't, I ain't ashamed of what I was or what I am ; it 
never was my way. Well, sir, I have lots of brass ! 

Sid. Brass ] 

C. Sr. Money. 

C Jr. Heaps ! 

C. Sr. Heaps ; but having begun by being a poor man, without 
edication, and not being a gentleman 

C. Jr. (aside). Guv, cut it ! 

C. Sr. I shan't— I know I'm not, and I'm proud of it, that is, 
proud of knowing I'm not, and I won't pretend to be. Johnny, 
don t put me out— I say I m not a gentleman, but ray son is. 

Sid. (looking at him). Evidently 

C Sr. And I wish him to cut a figure in the world — to get into 
Parliament. 

Sid Very difficult. 

C Sr. To get a wife ? 

Sid. Very easy. 

C Sr And in short, to be a — a real gentleman. 

Sid. Very difficult. 

C- f «• * Eh 1 

C. Jr. S 

Sid 1 mean very easy. 

C. Sr. Now I m anxious he should be an M. P. as soon as— — 

Sid. As he can. 

C. Jr Just so, and as I have lots of capital unemployed, I mean 

to invest it in 

Tom (slapping Sidney on knees). A new daily paper ! 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 125 



Sid. By Jove ! 

C. Sr A cheap daily paper, that could— that will— what will a 
cheap daily paper do 1 

Sid Bring the " Court Circular " within the knowledge of the 
humblest. 

Tom. Educate the masses — raise them morally, socially, political- 
ly, scientifically, geologically, and horizontally. 

C. Sr. {delighted). That's it — that's it, only it looks better in print. 

Tom « spouting). Bring the glad and solemn tidings of the day to 
the laborer at the plough, the spinner at his wheel, the swart for- 
ger at his furnace, the sailor on the giddy mast, the lighthouse 
keeper, as he trims his beacon lamp, the housewife at her paste- 
board, the mother at her needle, the lowly lucifer seller, as he 
splashes his wet and weary way through the damp, steaming, stony 
streets, eh I you know, {slapping Sidney on the knee, tliey both laugh.) 

C. Sr. (to Chodd, Jr. ). What are they a-laughing about 1 

Tom. So my old friend Johnny Prothero, who lives hard by Mr. 
Chodd, knowing that I have started lots of papers, sent the two 
Mr. Chodd s, or Messrs. Chodd, which is it ? you're a great gram- 
marian — to me. I can find them an efficient staff, and you are the 
first man we've called upon. 

Sid. Thanks, old fellow. When do you propose to start it 1 

C. Sr. At once. 

Sid. What is it to be called 1 

C. Sr. We don't know. 

C Jr. We leave that to the fellows we pay for their time and 
trouble. 

Sid. You want somethin g 

C Sr. Strong. 

Tom. And sensational. 

Sid. I have it. {rising.) 



Tom. ) 
C. Sr. J 
C. Jr. ) 



What ? 



Sid. The ' Morning Earthquake ! " 

Tom (rising ) Capital ! 

C. Sr. (rising). First-rate ! 

C. Jr. still seated). Not so bad. (goes up during next speech.) 

Sid. Don't you see \ In the place of the clock, a mass of houses 
—factories, and palaces tumbling one over the other ; and then the 
prospectus! " At the time when thrones are tottering, dynasties 
dissolving — while the old world is displacing to make room for 
the new " 

Tom Bravo ! 

C. Sr. (enthusiastically). Hurray ! 

Tom. A second edition at 4 o'clock p. m. The "Evening Earth- 
quake," eh 1 Placard the walls. " The Earthquake," one note 
of admiration ; " The Earthquake," two notes of admiration • * The 



120 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Earthquake," three notes of admiration. Posters, " ' The Earth- 
quake ' delivered every morning with your hot rolls." " With cof- 
fee, toast, and eggs, enjoy your ' Earthquake.' " 

C. Sr. ywith pocket-book). I've got your name and address. 

C. Jr. {who has been looking at cards stuck in glass). Guv. {takes old 
Chodd up and xvhispers to him ) 

Tom {to Sidney). Don't like this young man ? 

Sid. No. 

Tom. Cub. 

Sid. Cad. 

Tom. Never mind. The old 'un's not a bad 'un. We're off to a 
printer's. 

Sid. Grood-by, Tom, and thank ye. 

Tom. How's the little girl 1 

Sid Quite well. I expect her here this morning. 

C. Sr. Good morning. [Exeunt Chodd, Sr m and Tom. 

Sid. { filling pipe, etc.) Have a pipe ? 

C. Jr. (taking out a magnificent case). I always smoke cigars. 

Sid. Gracious creature ! Have some bitter beer? (getting it from 
locker.) 

C. Jr. I never drink anything in the morning 

Sid. Oh ! 

C Jr. But champagne. 

Sid. I haven't got any. 

C. Jr Then I'll take beer, {they sit) Business is business — so 
I'd best begin at once. The present age is, as you are aware, a 
practical age. 1 come to the point, it's my way. Capital com- 
mands the world. The capitalist commands capital, therefore the 
capitalist commands the world 

Sid. Bat you don't quite command the world, do you 1 

C. Jr. Practically, I do. I wish for the highest honors -I bring 
out my check book. I want to get into the House of Commons — 
check book. I want the best legal opinion in the House of Lords 
— check book. The best house— check book. The best turn out 
— check book. The best friends, the best wife, the best trained 
children — check book, check book, and check book. 

Sid. You mean to say with money you can purchase anything ? 

C. J a. Exactly. This life is a matter of bargain. 

Sid. But ". honor, love, obedience, troops of friends V. 

C. Jr Can buy 'em all, sir, in lots as at an auction. 

Sid. Love, too ? 

C. Jr. Marriage means a union mutually advantageous. It is 
a civil contract like a partnership. 

Sid. And the old-fashioned virtues of honor an 1 chivalry ? 

C. Jr. Honor means not being bankrupt. 1 know nothing at all 
about chivdry, and 1 don't want to. 

Sid. Well, yours is quite a new creed to me, and I confess I don't 
like it. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 127 



C. Jr. The currency, sir, converts the most hardened skeptic. I 
see by the cards on your glass that you go out a good deal. 

Sid G<>'out! 

C. Jr. Yes, to parties, {looking at cards on table) There's ray Lady 
this and the Countess t'other, and Mrs. Somebody else. Now that's 
what I want to do. 

Sid. Go into society 7 

C. Jr. Just so. You had money once, hadn't you 1 

Sid. Yes. 

C. Jr What did you do with it ? 

Sid. Spent it. 

C. Jr. And you have been in the army ? 

S*d. Yes. 

C. Jr. Infantry 1 

Sid Cavalry. 

C Jr. Dragoons'? 

Sid. Lancers. 

C. Jr. How did you get out of it 1 

Sid. Sold out. 

C. Jr. Then you were a first-rate fellow, till you tumbled down ! 

Sid Tumbled down ? 

C. Jr. Yes, to what you are. You take it coolly. 

Sid. I generally do. 

C. Jr. [looking round). You've got lots of guns ? 

Sid. I'm fond of shooting. 

C. Jr. And rods 1 

Sid. I'm fond of fishing. 

C. Jr. And books ? 

Sid. I like reading. 

C. Jr. And whips 1 

Sid. And riding. 

0. Jr. Why, you seem fond of everything. 

Sid. [looking at him). No, not everything. 

C. Jr. As 1 was saying, you know lots of people at clubs, and in 
society. 

Sid Yes. 

C. Jr. Titles, and honorables, and captains, and all that. 

Sid. Yes 

C. Jr. Tiptoppers. {after a pause) You're not well off 1 

Sid. (getting serious). No. 

C. Jr I am. I've heaps of brass. Now I have what you haven't, 
and I haven t what you have You've got what I want, and I've 
got what you want. That's logic, isn't it ? 

Sid. .gravely). What of it 1 

C. Jr. This : suppose we exchange or barter. You help me to 
get into the c mpany of men with titles, and women with titles ; 
swells, you know, real 'uns, and all that. 

Sid. Yes. 



128 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



C. Jr. And I'll write you a check for any resonable sum you like 
to name. 

Sid. {rising indignantly^. Mr. Chodd, I cannot entertain your very 
commercial proposition. My friends are my friends ; they are not 
marketable commodities. I regret that I can be of no assistance 
to you. With your appearance, manners and check-book, you are 
sure to make a circle of your own. 

C. Jb You refuse, then— — 

Sid. Absolutely. Good morning. 

C. Jr. Good morning, {aside) And if I don't have my knife into 
you, my name's not John Chodd, Jr. 



CASH AGAINST BEAINS. 

From Thomas J. Williams' Farce of " Dandelion's Dodges." 
CHARACTERS. 

Mr. Turnpenny Dibbs, a Retired Money Lender. 
Vivian Thornbrake, a Country Squire. 
Dickey Dandelion, aProfessional Scarecrow. 

Scene.— A Romantic Landscape. 

Enter Thornbrake and Dibbs, the former wears a plain shooting 
jacket, $c, the latter is attired in a ridiculously exaggerated sporting 
costume of the most glaringly " cockneyjied" description. Each 
carries gun, poach, §c. 

Dibbs {grounding gun and striking a conceited attitude, looking around). 
Halloa, here we are in front of Ivy Hall again. I say, squire, this 
is the third time you have brought me this way. 

Thorn, {somewhat confused). Chance, Mr. Dibbs, I assure you, 
mere chance. 

Dibbs \knmvingly). Can't gammon me j'oung man, I'll lay odds 
it's the turtle-dove and not the wild towl attracts us, eh — you sly 
do2 you ! 

Thorn, {interrupting). Really, my dear sir 

Dibbs [continuing). The charming young widow who, I'm told, 
lives at the hall, [knowingly ) Can't gammon me ! 

Thorn, {confused). I— I assure you, sir, 1 feel nothing for Mrs. 
Armytage, but a — a the most — {confused) profound respect. 

Dibbs {disdainfully) Respect ! ha, ha ! respect is all very fine for 
a young man, who like yourself is not troubled with a superabun- 
dance of the needful ! {slapping his breeches pocket.) 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 129 



Thorn, (offended — impetuously). What, sir ! do you dare taunt me 
with my recent loss of fortune 1 

Dibbs (continuing superciliously). Now with me, [slapping breeches 
pocket as before) the case is different; I'm a man of fortune, large 
fortune, very large fortune — 1 never trouble myself about respect. 
(striking a conceited attitude) I've only to glance at a woman, young 
or old, dark or fair, and she strikes her colors immediately. 

Thorn, (aside, angrily. Conceited old coxcomb, [aloud) And how 
do you account for this irresistible peculiarity 1 

Dibbs (pompously) My dear fellow, you young men imagine that 
nothing goes down with the fair sex but good looks and juvenility 
of appearance ; quite a mistake, the only thing a woman really 
cares for is — the L. S. D. ! 

Thorn, (interrupting). The-what, sir ? 

Dibbs (continuing). The L. S. D., sir. (slipping trousers pocket) The 
chink, the rhino, the mopusses — and small blame to the dear crea- 
tures — mopusses mean carriages, mopusses mean horles, mopusses 
mean fine dresses, cashmere shawls, diamond bracelets — in short, 
in a woman's eyes, a man isn't a man at all, unless, (aggravatingly 
rattling money in his breeches pocket) unless he has lots of the mopusses ! 

Thorn, (angrily). Pshaw, sir, this is an unwarrantable libel on 
the sex ! 

Dibbs. Come now. I'll tell you what I'll do with you. I have 
never even set eyes on the bewitching young widow who is said to 
inhabit yonder hall, (conceitedly) but I dare say she has heard of my 
magnificent income, (rattles money.) 

Thorn, [aside, angrily). Confound his income, I say. 

Dibbs (continuing). Now I 11 lay you a cool hundred I'll prevail 
upon this young and lovely widow to grant me a secret assignation. 

Thorn, (angrily). A secret assignation ! 

Dibbs (continuing conceitedly) A tete a-tete — "you and I nobody 
by." (knoivingly) You know the style of thing — this very evening \ 

Thorn, (impetuously). Pshaw ! nonsense ! stuff* ! impossible ! 

Dibbs (conceitedly — rattling money in his pocket). To a man of my 
income, nothing is impossible ! Come now, is it a bet ? 

Thorn, {indignantly). Of course it is. I'd stake my last penny 
against so outrageous an improbability. 

Dibbs. Done ! (relapsing into the man of business) just book the bet, 
will you I (produces pock>tbook, as also does Thornbrare) If it isn't 
convenient to pay down, you shall do rne a little bill at three 
months, interest included, (aside) And if he doesn't meet it, I can 
always sell him up. 

Thorn, (entering bet in pocket-book — aside). Presumptuous old par- 
venu ! 

Dibbs. Now then to write the insidious little epistle I always 
carry stationery. ( producing sheet of note paper which he places on back 
of pocket-book, writing with pencil) My signature will be quite enough 



130 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



While they are both engaged in writing, enter Dandelion. Me {spar- 
ing an enormous turnip with a large clasp knife. 

Dand. {not seeing Dibbs and Thornbrake). I — I be just havin' a' 
snack like -beacon be so darned dear just now I be forced to live 
on roots loike I bad carrots o' Monday, parsnips o' Tuesday, and 
now I be havin" a turn/up by way of a change loike — (with his 
m>uthfull) it be what they call a ivaetable diet : 

Dibbs . wlw has meanwhile finished note, folding it three cornered 
■way). There — there's the little epistle — now how am I to forward it 
— there's no time to lose — stay, {perceiving Dandelion; Whom have 
we yonder— he looks stupid enough for anything — hi ! booby, come 
here ! 

Dand. {eagerly — coming forward, turnip in hand). Booby! that be 
I ! They always call 1 booby S (stupidity) Want any birds frightened 
away, your honor ? 

Dibbs {impatiently). Birds, no ! 

Thorn, (jeeringly). A pretty love messenger, truly. 

Dibbs {with a business-like air, to Dandelion). Now then, you, sir, 
what do you call yourself ! 

Dand. {with booby ish stupidity). I don't call myself nothink — it be 
Pothers as calls I. {imitating. " Hi," says they, " Dandy ! come along 
this way ! " {grins stupidly) Ho ! ho ! ho ! 

Dibbs {to Tho.:nbrakej. Did you ever see such a savage 1 {to 
Dandelion) Now listen 

Dand. (stupidly putting his hand to his ear). I be a listenin' ! 

Dibbs. I want you to do me a service. 

Dand. {astounded — starting violently). The likes o' T do your honor 
a service ! I be a-goin' to tumble down loike ! ( totally overcome by the 
sen<e of the honor conferred upon him — he lets fall turnip, and falls back- 
wards into Dibbs' arms. ) 

Dibbs {astounded and vainly endeavoring to get rid of Dandy). Now 
then, blockhead, stand up, will you 1 

Dand {still supported by Dibbs, half blubbering). It be too much for 
the feelings' o' a young country lad 

Dibbs {endeavoring to push him away — roaring). Stand up, will 
you I 

Thorn, (dragging him away from Dibbs). Do you hear, idiot ? 
{stumbles over turnip, which is at his feet) What the devil's this ? 
(violently kicks away turnip.) 

Dand (hastily starting up). Dang it— he be a kicking my turnip ! 
that be my d n >er ! (hastily rushes after turnip, which he crams into 
pocket of smock frock.) 

Dibbs {impatiently). Now then ! {bawling) do you want to earn a 
sovereign ] 

Dand. A suv'rin ! (utterly dumbfounded) A real live suv'rin ! (it 
about to fall helplessly as before into Dibbs' arms — when Dibbs gives him 
a vigorous push which sends him against Thornbrake.) 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 131 



Thorn, {"ngrily pushing him back again). Stand up, idiot ! 

Dand. (utterly bewildered.) I'ze gotten the staggers — that 'ere turn' 
rntp's got into my noddle. 

Dibbs ( holding him by the arm). You see this note, (facetiously) 
It's what they call a billet-doux. 

Dand. {stupidly.) A billy what 1 

Dibbs. [holding note close up to Dandy's eyes). Now if you can only 
deliver this note here into the hand of the lady who lives over in 
that house there, {pointing) this sovereign here (producing sovereign 
from pocket, and holding it up) shall be yours to put in that pocket 
there ! 

Dand (repeating). In this pocket there ! (taking note in a state of 
terrific excitement) I'll do't — I knows the lady— I'll give 'un to her ! 

Dibbs {continuing, to Dandelion) And I say, if you will bring me 
a favorable answer, (affectedly) a genial response, you shall have an- 
other sovereign. 

Dand. {starting— amazed). Another live suv'rin ! two golden 
shiners! (is about to fall as before against Dibbs, but Dibbs pushes him 
away towards Thornbrake) 

Thorn, (pushing him back again). Stand up, idiot ! 

Dand. (pushing first one side, and then the other). I'ze gotten the 
staggers. I knows 1 has ! stop a bit — (to Dibbs— puzzled) What be 
I to bring 1 

Dibbs {affectedly.) A favorable answer — a genial response — a fond 
reply 

Dand. (terribly puzzled, aloud- to Dibbs). What be I to put 'em in 1 

Dibbs Why in your pocket to be sure. 

Dand. (aside— doubtfully). All that in one pocket ! and my turnip 
be there already, (walks up, and stares at note with a '• ruminant " ex- 
pression. ) 

Thohn. (to Dibbs). Now really, my dear sir, I think this ill-advised 
joke has gone far enough. 

Dibbs (aside — chuckling). Ha ! ha ! He's afraid of his money. 
(aloud) Young man, I am determined to prove to you that Cupid 
stands no chance when Cash is in the field. (exultingly\ Oh, what a 
splendid thing it is to be rich, (singing and dancing) Tol-de-rol-de- 
riddle-lol. 

Thoun. (aside — angrily). The ridiculous old upstart! I can scarcely 
keep my hands off him. 

Dibbs (to Dandelion). Remember, a genial response, a fond reply. 
(to Thornbrake) Now then, squire, come along. I'm not going to 
leave you behind, you know — can't gammon me ! (passes his arm 
through Thornbrake's) Come along ! 

Thorn, (aside — angrily as they go out). If he was only a few years 
younger, i'd pitch him into the first ditch we came to. 

Dibbs 'dragging him off). Come along— come along. [Exeunt. 

Dand. (alone — rumindTing~'with a puzzled expression). I be to get two 
golden shiners if I gives this here little Billy what's his name, to the 



132 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



lady as lives yan— (pointing off) that be zartin — so here goes, (mov- 
ing towards park gates) Why, dash my buttons, here she be. {nerv- 
ously) Ecod, I ben't used to talking to quality folks— I be all o' a 
flustration like. [Exit. 



A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER. 

From John Poole's Farce of " Turning the Tables." 

CHARACTERS. 

.Jeremiah Bumps, a Gentleman from Coventry. 
Edgar de Courcy, a Scion of the Law. 
Jack Humphries, the TTxbridge Wit. 
Tom Thornton, De Courcy's Friend. 

Scene. — An Apartment within the Mansion of Mr. Knibbs, a retired 
Tradesman of Uxbridge. 

[Mr. Edgar de Courcy, whose entire fortune consists in the possession of 
a romantic name, having won the affections of Celestina, Kibbs' daughter, is 
alarmed at hearing of the approaching arrival of Bumps, whom the worthy 
tradesman insists upon having as a son-in-law Deceived by his name, De 
Courcy conceives the idea that the wearer must be a country bumpkin, and 
therefore confederates with a number of cronies to render his obnoxious rival 
ridiculous, and thereby force him to relinquish all claims to the fair Celesti- 
na's hand. Unfortunately for the success of this scheme, Bumps, who, de- 
spite his cognomen is an intelligent and accomplished gentleman, through 
accidentally meeting with Knibbs' servant, not only becomes acquainted with 
the conspirators' design, but dexterously worms out of his unsuspicious in- 
formant a mass of domestic scandal, by means of which he is enabled " to 
turn the tables." Major Sturgeon, whom Jack Humphries attempts to imi- 
tate, is a hectoring blusterer— a character in Foote's Farce of " The Mayor of 
Garrat." 

De Courcy and Thornton are discovered on the Scene, wJien enters 
Bumps, who assumes a tone, a mann>r, a mode of walking, etc., such 
as altogether to give him a ridicidous appearance; he dangles a sword- 
stick in his hand. 

Bumps. Good morning to you, gentlemen, both. 

Edgar Gaod night to you, sir. (aside) Ha, ha, ha ! just what 
we expected. 

Bumps. Good night ! Well I have heard of different customs in 

different countries and so 1 suppose This is Mr. Knibbs' house, 

eh 1 

Edgar. It is, sir. 

Bumps. Are you old Knibbs ? 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 133 



Edgar I am not, sir. {laughs and moves aside, so that Bumps can 
see Thornton.) 

Bumps. Oh, then, perhaps you are the gentleman whose daugh- 
ter I urn come to marry ? 

Thorn. Wrong again, sir. 

Bumps. Ah, well, one can't tell when one is all among strangers. 
(laug)is idiotically.) 

Thorn. What, I wonder, is the fool laughing at ? 

Bumps. I'll lay a wager of ten pounds you can't guess what 
has brought me all the way from Coventry, (takes money from his 
pocket.) 

Thorn. To be married. (Bumps stares with affected astonishment.) 

Edgar. To Miss Sally Knibbs. 

Bumps. Well, if ever I did see the like ! {hastily puts his money 
up) Mind, you didn't take the wager, though. I'm too deep for 
you there. 

Thorn. Deep as a well. We should have no chance against you 
in anything. 

Bumps. To tell the truth, I don't think you would. I'm not at 
all foolish 

Edgar. Dear me ! now how one may be deceived by appear- 
ances. 

Bumps. Never trust 'em — I wouldn't swear to yours. 

Thorn. (to Edgar). This is such a downright booby, there will 
be no merit in vanquishing him. Let us desist. 

Edgar. No, no ; besides, we must get him out of the way. 

Bumps. I'll tell you what it is that makes me so sharp. You 
must know that at Coventry, we gay, lively young sparks are al- 
ways practising — that is, we are always trying to hoax one another. 
Now, whoever is the dupe, is obliged to pay a capital dinner for all 
the rest. 

Edgar. I'll answer for it, so smart a fellow as you are is never 
caught. 

Bumps. That isn't for me to say ; but I never let them catch me 
if I can help it. He, he, he, he ! 

Edgar {to Thornton, wJw has been whispering to him). Pshaw ! 
there is no harm in a good dinner ; we'll each take a third in the 
wager, and Humphries will take the oiher ! 'Twill be treating the 
ninny as he deserves, (to Bdmps) Well, sir, we'll stake ten guineas 
for the honor of the wits of Uxbridge. and perhaps, before the day 
is over, we shall see who is made to cut the most foolish figure. 

Bumps. Before the day is over, mind that ; I long to have at you ; 
but all in good humor, mind ; we never lose our temper at Coven- 
try. 

Jack Humphries {without, sings). " See the Conquering Hero 
Comes." 

Bumps (looking out) . My stars ! what a fierce-looking fellow. I 
hope that isn't my new father-in-law ; I shall be afraid to com© 
mear him. 



134 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Thorn. No, that is General— General Jocko, who has killed more 
men than you have hairs on your head ; and if he should object to 
your marriage with Miss Knibbs, you had better undertake to eat 
him than oppose him. I tell you that as a friend. 

Bumps. If my father had known that, he d never have sent me 
here. 

Edgar (to Thornton). That was well thrown in. 

Enter Jack Humphries, dressed, in part, like Major Sturgeon, with 
a long sword at his side. 

Jack. Now, lads, is my victim 

Edgar. Hush ! {he and Thornton take Jack aside and whisper.) 

Bumps {aside). So ; that is my redoubtable antagonist, and equip- 
ped as I expected. 'Tis well I am prepared for him. 

Jack (to the others). A wager ! It was my intention to propose a 
wager. 

Thorn. There again ! 

Jack. And one word for all ; I must take the whole of that upon 
myself, or I have nothing to do with the business. 

Edgar. Well, Jack, we withdraw our share in the stakes, so the 
ten guineas will be yours. 

Jack .aside). A good morning's work. Now prepare to split 
your sides, [strutting forward) Hem, hem ! Sir, I am proud to wel- 
come you to Uxbridge. [strikes Bumps on the shoulder.) 

Bumps. Sir, you are very polite, I'm sure, (appears to shrink under 
the blow, and rubs his shoidder.) 

Jack [to the others). Did you mark that ? Your hand, Bumps. 
(Bumps gives him his hand aivkivardly, and hastily witlidraws it) Gun- 
powder and smoke! t to the otliers) Keep your eye on me. Gunpow- 
der and smoke ! (Bumps backs away from him) is that your way of 
giving your hand to the oldest friend of your family ? Your hand, 
Bumps (looks towards the others and laughs.) 

Bumps. Oh, if you are a friend of our family, that is a different 
thing. 

Jack {to the others). I've made the noodle believe that I am a 
friend of his family. 

Bumps. There, then, {seizes his hand and squeezes it firmly — Jack 
writhes and makes wry faces) I know how to behave to a friend of the 
family. 

Edgar. Bravo, Jack ! 

Thorn. At him again. 

Jack. At him. Confound the fellow! one might as well put 
one's fingers into one of his father's ribbon-presses. 

Bumps. So you know my family, sir 1 

Jack. Ay, your father is - Peeping Tom, {looks at the others and 
laughs) and your mother — your mother is Lady Godiva. Ha, ha, 
ba! 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 135 



Bumps. Oh, no, ray mother isn't at all like Lady Godiva ; she is 
n short, stumpy, round little woman. She never rode a horse-back 
in her life, and I'm sure she wouldn't in that way, for she has not 
at all a fine head of hair. 

Edgar. This is exquisite. 

Thorn. You'll be the death of him. 

Jack. And do you pretend, Mr. Jeremiah Bumps, that you don't 
remember me ? 

Bumps. Why, if I never saw you before 

Jack. How! Don't you remember— {aside) Let me see, what 
shall I remind him of 1 Don't you remember my tripping up your 
heels at the Coporation Ball ] 

Bumps. Lo.d ! and was it you 1 

Jack {aside). One can persuade him to anything. 

Bumps. Well, I'm so much obliged to you. 

Jack. Ha, ha, ha! For tripping up your heels 1 

Bumps. No; for telling ma who it was that did it ; and since it 
was you— He, he, he, he ! you must give me satisfaction. 

Jack [to the others). He swallows it. {to Bumps Satisfaction, my 
hero. In any way you please. Congreve rockets, or four-and- 
twenty pounders ] 

Bumps {shakes his head). No — I'm afraid of them ; I'll not fight 
with anything but little pistols — such as these, {draws a brace of pis- 
tols from his pockets.) 

Thorn. Excellent! Keep it up, Jack. They're not charged ; 
they'd never trust such a simpleton as that with loaded pistols. 

Jack (alarmed). You are a very brave fellow. I dare say, but 

Bumps No, I ain't in the least ; but as I am sure of bringing 
down my man at the first fire, 1 don't run any risk — otherwise I'd 
never think of fighting with a general like you. (Jack tvalks away.) 

Edgar [encouraging him). Bravo, Jack ; you are doing it admira- 
bly. 

Thorn. Nothing can be better. 

Jack. He's not worth setting my wit at. (to Bumps) Put down 
those pistols. Ha, ha, ha ! Why. you didn't think 1 wa3 seri< us ? 
Did you ever see such a creature ? 

Bumps. Oh ! then you were only laughing at me ? 

Jack. Ay — I was only laughing at you, that was all. {toinks at 
the others.) 

Bumps. Ah ! But as I didn't come to Uxbridge to be laughed 
at — (presenting pistols to him) take whichever you please — 'tis all 
fair ; there's only a brace of slugs in each. (Jack tvalks away, and 
endeavors to get behind the others) But just to show you what 1 can do, 
stand still, and I'll carry off the right hand curl of your wig with- 
out hurting you ; and if, by mistake, a ball should go through 
your head, 111 give you leave to call me a bungler, that's all. 
Hold him steady, gentlemen, for fear of accident. (Thornton and 
Edgar hastily gel out of the way.) 



136 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



Jack (in great nlarm). I say— you— mister— {aside) People ought 
to be ashamed of themselves to trust such a bumpkin with pistols. 
Bump. He, he. he ! Why the General is frightened, I do declare ! 
Well, who'd have thought that ever I should frighten a general. 

Jack. Delicous ! What a natural ! I've made him believe I'm 
frightened. Keep close to me, lads— it is capital sport yto Bumps) 
Yes, yes, I am frightened ; but this is my weapon, {draws and 
{flourish s his sword) and if you are for satisfaction, my Alexander 
the Great, to-morrow — to-morrow I'm your man. {to the others) We 
must get him out of the way at once. 

Bumps (retiring). What a terrible long sword ! No wonder you 
have killed more men than I have hairs 'on my head. 1 don't like 
that long sword ; so instead of fighting, suppose you beg my par- 
don for laughing at me. 

Jack [brand-sliing his sword). What's that I hear ? Beg pardon ! 
Gunpowder and smoke ! 

Bumps. Well, then, if we must fight But since that is your 

weapon, and I am not a very good fencer, I hope you'll excuse me 
(slowly draws a sword from his cane) if 1 run you through the body in 
rather an awkward fashion. ( throios himself into a fencing attitude ) 
Thorn, ypushng Humphries, tvho is endeavoring to get away). Now 
for .your great artillery, J ick ; now is your time to demolish him. 
Jack Oh, pooh ! (to Bumps, who thrusts at him) Keep off, sir — I 
beg your pardon !— I say, I beg your pardon, sir I 

Bumps. Well, since you beg my pardon, I'm satisfied, (puts up 
his sword i. 

Jack. Umph ! (wipes his forahead, and says to the others) The fool ! 
I flatter myself I did that well ; I've made him believe 1 begged 
his pardon. 

Thorn. You did that so well, Humphries, that, 'gad, you made 
me believe it too. 

Bumps. Now we'll shake hands, General. (Jack is about to give his 
hand, but hastily tvithdraws it, and walks away) And then I should 
like to see the lady I'm to make love to. 

Edgar (in a blustering tone . Two words to that, if you please, sir. 
(Bumps puts his hands into his pockets as if feeling for his pistols) That 
is -don't misunderstand me, my dear sir — but the fact is that — in 
short, you may remember my friend here told you that if the Gen- 
eral —the General should object to your marriage, you had better 

attempt to 

Jack (drags him away). Now, you will interfere! that is no part 

of ray scheme, and 

Bumps. Ah, I wish I had not come to Uxbridge, because if the 

General should object, I shall be obliged to 

Jack. But the General will not object, (aside ) The conceit of these 
fellows with their schemes ! The General admires yxm, Bumps ; 
and provided there should be no obelisk to your marriage in the 
shape of an engagement of yours in another quarter — you under- 
stand— 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 13^ 



Bumps {aside). What's in the wind now ! Another engagement? 
No, no ! one wife at a time is quite enough. He, he, he ! 

Jack. That's what 1 call wit, Bumps, (bows with mock respect and 
winks at tlie others) and I always treat wit with profound respect. 

Bumps {bows). No one can accuse you of undue familiarity with 
it. 

Jack (to the others, who laugh, and affecting to laugh himself). You 
may well laugh. Did you ever before meet with such a bumpkin ? 



A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 

From John M. Morton's Farce of " Foor Fillicoddy. 

CHARACTERS. 

John Peter Pillicoddy, a Florist. 
Captain Scuttle, a Mariner. 

Scene.— Pillicoddy's Store. 

[The point of this scene rests upon the presumption that Pillicoddy, having 
married the widow of a Captain O' Scuttle, lost at sea, mistakes the living 
mariner, his cousin of the same name, who is in search of his wife, a friend 
to Airs. Pillicoddy, for that lady's first, but now deceased, husband.] 

Pillicoddy. Yes, there he is, sure enough. Holloo ! what's he 
about I Taking a deliberate aim at the window with some species 
of firearms ! No — it's a telescope. Now, really {walks across.) 

Enter Captain O'Scuttle, with telescope. 

Capt. {to Pillicoddy). Stop I I'll trouble you to shorten sail, 
and bring to. 

Pil. Bring two 1 Two what ? 

Capt. Pshaw ! So, sir, it seems I've found you at last 1 

Pil. It certainly does seem so — I am not prepared to deny the 
fact that it does seem so. 

Capt. I believe your name is Pilli something or other ] 

Pil. No, sir, it is not Pilli something or other— it's Pillicoddy ! 
John Peter Pillicoddy. 

Capt. No matter. 

Pil. 1 beg your pardon — it does matter. And now, sir, if there 
is any thing I can do for you 

Capt. There is. You can hold your tongue, as soon as conveni- 
ent, and listen to me. ( in a very sudden and toud tone) She's here ! 

Pil i starting). There's no necessity, sir, for exercising your or- 
gan in that absurd mauner. 

Capt. I repeat, she's here ! You cant deny it. Don't speak—- 



138 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 



you haven't a word to say — don't interrupt me ! How did she 
come here ? when did she come here ] why did she come here 1 

Pil. Really, my dear sir, the pronoun she beinsr applicable to the 
entire female sex, I must trouble you clearly to define the particu- 
lar she you mean by she. 

Capt My wife, sir I 

Pil. (aside). His wife ! (slightly staggering) Holloa, Pillicoddy, 
what are you about ? No nonsense, Pillicoddy— be firm— be firm ! 
—(aloud, and suddenly) Pooh ! pooh! I beg to observe, there's no- 
thing personal in my pooh ! pooh ! therefore, as I said before, 
pooh ! pooh ! — I know nothing of your wife — how should I ? 
There's only one married female in this house, and she happens to 
be my wife. 

Capt. Don't trifle with me, Pilli — whatever it is. I saw her— dis- 
tinctly saw her at a window on that side of the house— and that 
must be the room. 

Pil. (aside). Anastasia's apartment ! (looking about for a chair to 
faint upon.) 

Capt. So, sir, if you've no objection, we'll have her out. 

Pil. (throwing himself before Captain). Beware, mariner — beware! 
I'm small, but desperate — diminutive, but determined. — (aside) 
And yet, now I think of it, Sarah told me that Mrs. Pillicoddy had 
just gone out ; so it couldn't be her he saw — it must have been 
his fancy— he must have seen his fancy. Ha, ha. ha ! I breathe 
again, (aloud to Captain) Very well, sir, as you will insist upon 
it that your wife is in that room, have her out by all means. There 
doesn't happen to be any body there — but, nevertheless, have her 
out. 

Capt. (unable to open door). 0, there's nobody here, eh 1 Then how 
is it that the door happens to be locked on the inside of it, eh ? 
(looking through the key hole.) 

Pil. (aside). She must have come back ! {seeing Captain, and vio- 
lently pulling him away) Halloa, sir ! No looking through the key- 
hole -delicacy forbids. 

Capt. Hark ye, Pilli— whatever it is — don't presume to trifle 
with me any longer, or by the blood of the O'Scuttles 

Pil. (in a very plaintive tone). The what ? 

Capt. The O'Scuttles ! Captain 0' Scuttle stands before you. 

Pil Are you that man 1 [seizing Captain's hand) Does this hand 
really and truly grasp a Scuttle 1 [brings down a chair, arranges cushion, 
§c., and then deliberately sits down and faints — then suddenly jumps up 
again, and ivith a sudden air of gayety) Stop — wait a bit ! My dear 
sir, allow me to call your attention to a trifling, but important fact, 
that seems to have entirely slipped your memory, and that is, that 
you are drowned ! 

Capt. 0, I'm drowned, am I 1 

Pil. You know you are. You are this moment at the bottom of 
the sea. There was no end of tears shed on your account at first; 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 139 



but now you are forgotten, the world gets on very comfortable with- 
out you — so why destroy the agreeable delusion 1 I put it to you — 
why destroy the agreeable delusion . Now. go back from whence 
you canie. I have considered the point in all its bearings, and I 
should be neglecting a duty — a sacred duty— if 1 did not advise 
you to go back from whence you came. 

Capt. Thank ye. But I've had enough of the si a for Lome time. 

Pil. 1 should think so — but you don't seem much the worse for 
it {aside) I don't see any barnacles about him. 

Capt. Let me tell you shipwreck's no joke. It's no trifle to be 
wandering about en an island like Robinson Crusoe. 

Pil. [aside). There ! 1 thought as much. 

Capt. Jt s my belief I should have died if it hadn't been for the 
natives. 

Pil (aside). Shipwrecked on an oyster bed. The luck of some 
people is perfectly miraculous ! 

Capt. However, sir, I once again beheld the white cliffs of Old 
Englaud, and I forgot all my troubles in contemplating the affec- 
tionate, loving welcome of my wife ! 

Pil. [aside). Poor devil L 

Cap. But it wasn't to be, sir. Excuse these tears 

Pil. Don't mind me, sir — get rid ot the superfluous salt water, 
by all means, {aside) I really feel for the man — to me there's 
something peculiarly touching in the contemplation of a jolly tar, 
when he's not jolly. 

Capt. Mrs. O'Scuttle had left her home, (sighing deeply.} 

Pil. [aside). He calls her Mrs. O'Scuttle. Then he's not aware 
— he seems so entirely broken down by grief, physically as well as 
mentally, that I think I'll ventuie to teil him. {aloud) My dear sir, 
Will you allow me to mention to you in confidence, that when you 
presented yourself before me for the first time, I immediately made 
this observation to myself within myself: 'If e\er there was a 
man cut out by nature to bear a shock like a Briton, yonder man 
is that man ! " I don't wish to -flatter you, but to myself, within 
myself, 1 made that observation. 

Capt. Indeed ! And pray, sir, didn't it occur to you, at the 
same time, that I was just the sort of man to cut your throat or any 
other man's that dared to do me an injury 1 (very fiercely.) 

Pil Why, no — i can't say 

Capt. Can't you ! Then by the powers, I'll show you it is so, 
if you don't immediately and satisfactorily explain how it is that I 
find my wife in this house. 

Pil. Your wife ? When you say your wife, of course you are nat- 
urally and powerfully impressed with the pleasing but slightly 
erroneous idea that she is your wife. 

Capt. What d'ye mean 1 

Pil. Mean? (exclaiming) Good gracious ! Did it never occur to 
you : as you were wandering about your island like a wretched 



140 AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS 



Robinson Crusoe, that your wife might naturally fancy herself a 
widow — and that fancying herself a widow, she might equally nat- 
urally endeavor to console herself for your loss by 

Capt What 1 

Pil. Can't you guess 1 

Capt No. (Pillicoddy whispers across to Captain) Speak out ! 

Pil. [getting behind chair — shouting). By marrying again ! 

Capt. Marrying again ? Ha, ha, ha ! That would be a mighty 
good joke Ha, ha. ha ! 

Pil. [aside). He takes it remarkably well — [advancing) Ha, ha, ha ! 
[increasing in loudness) Ha, ha, ha ! Then you're not offended 1 
You don't mind it ? You're a great creature, and I respect you. 
(taking Captain's hand) I respect you much, but, under existing 
circumstances, don't you think it would be as well for you to — 
Umph ! In short, don't you think it would be better for you to — 
Umph ! 

Capt. What d'ye mean 1 

Pil. Why, if she were to know that you've turned up again 

Capt. She ? Who ? 

Pil. My wife ! 

Capt. I can't see how that can possibly matter to her — all I 
want is my wife. 

Pil Well, your wife, or my wife— it's all the same. 

Capt All the same ? 

Pil. Of course. We may say our wife, eh 7 Ha, ha, ha! (louder) 
Ha ha, ha! 

Capt. 'Sdeath and the devil ! You don't mean to say that Mrs. 
O'Scuttle 

Pil. Mrs. Pillicoddy, if it's the same to you. 

Capt Bother Mrs. Pillicoddy ! I repeat, you don't mean to say 
that Mrs. Scuttle 

Pil. Bother Mrs. O'Scuttle ! You either can't or won't under- 
stand, that by your absurd and capricious conduct — first in getting 
yourself drowned, and then turning up again — you and I at this 
present moment, have only one wife between us. 

Capt. What, you don't mean to say you've married my wife 1 

Pil Certainly not, sir. I've married your widow. 

Capt. Widow ? How can that be, when I'm alive 1 

Pil But you have no business to be alive — it's the height of ab- 
surdity on your part to be alive. 

Capt. Faithless, perjured woman ! But I'll be the death of her ! 

Pil. Then we shall be worse off than we are now —we shall have 
no wife at all between us. 

CArT. It certainly is a bit of a blunder. 

Pil. A very considerable bit. 

Capt. However, luckily, the remedy is simple enough. 

Pil. I'm delighted to hear it. What is it 1 

Capt. Either I shoot you, or you shoot me. 



AMATEUR AND PARLOR THEATRICALS. 141 



Pil. It's yery handsome of you to give me the choice. I'll shoot 
you. 

Capt. [fiercely). No ! 

Pil. Can any thing be fairer 1 

Capt. No ! 

Pil. Very well, then 

Capt. No ! 

Pil. Why, just now you — — 

Capt. No ! 

Pil You distinctly said 

Capt. No ! 

Pil. Yes — you've said no several times, but < 

Capt. That'll do ! Tell Mrs. Scuttle 

Pil. Mrs Pillicoddy ! 

Capt. Mrs. O'Scuttle ! 

Pil. Pillicoddy ! 

Capt. Tell her to pack up instantly, and prepare to accompany 
her lawful husband 

Pil. That's me ! 

Capt. Me ! 

Pil. Me ! 

Capt. I'll be back directly. 

Pil. (not listening to him). Me ! 

Capt. You hear 1 [Exit, hurriedly. 

Pil. Me ! (shouting after him) Me ! (walking down rapidly to front) 
What's to be done ? Give up Anastasia 1 Never ! What would 
life be to me without my Anastasia V Nothing. What would 
Anastasia be to me without life ? Nothinger still — so let my cry 
be, " Anastasia or death ! " with a decided preference for Anasta- 
sia. 



DEC SO 1904 



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We can supply any play or book pub- 
lished. We have issued a 144-page catalogue 
of the best 1500 plays and entertainment books 
published in the U. S. and England. It con- 
tains a full description of each play, giving 
number of characters, time of playing, scenery, 
costumes, etc. This catalogue will be sent free 
on application. 

The plays described are suitable for am- 
ateurs and professionals, and nearly all of them 
may be performed free of royalty. Persons in- 
terested in dramatic books should examine our 
catalogue before ordering elsewhere. 

The Dramatic Publishing Company. 

CHICAGO. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRES 



022 204 646 4 



Conservation Resources 
Lig-Free® Type I 
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